Keeping It In The Family?
by Mizz Moneypenny
Summary: Sequel of 'Blimey, it's a baby'. Will Sam and Gene clash once again over the welfare of his daughter or will there be other, more important issues to take care of? Chapter 15 now posted! Please read and review!
1. Chapter 1: Welcome back?

Hello and welcome! Thank you for giving this story a try. It does kind of follow on from my other Life on Mars story 'Blimey it's a baby!' but it's not essential that you have read it. I would like to just take a moment to say a huge thank you to everyone who read and reviewed that - I hope you enjoy this offering of mine just as much!

Now for the boring part - I don't own any of the characters in this story (except for one who you'll be introduced to soon!). All rights are reserved to Kudos/BBC.

Enjoy!

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Taking a deep breath as he admired the concrete building towering over him, Sam Tyler squinted at the mid-morning sun, peeping behind the mountain like structure. It hardly seemed like he'd been away from the place for a fortnight.

He continued to stroll up the steps, an unusual yet highly welcomed spring in his movements. For once, he felt happy, nearly euphoric. It had been a long time since he'd felt close to that.

In fact, he wasn't sure he'd ever felt as good as this his whole life.

A new wave of calm lapped over him, his mind and soul contently relaxed. Everything felt clear. Not like a few weeks ago - stuffed in a room wondering if he'd ever be freed from the dingy hell hole. He didn't let his thoughts dwell too deeply on that moment; it was in the past. He was more satisfied with looking towards the future.

The past few weeks had been near bliss for him, a re-adjustment to life in 1970's Manchester. The Gov had given him a couple of weeks off as compassionate leave. As soon as that bastard Mike Smith and Frank Morgan had been locked up, that was it; time for a well deserved break.

In fact, Sam was reluctant to take a hiatus at the time. The city would need all of the support it could get; to get settled back into its usual fairly sedate groove (well, as much of a sedated groove as such a city would ever obtain), free from murdering scum and inexcusable tragedy.

At least, that's what the Inspector had hoped.

Still, as he pulled the double doors open, he felt a rush of cigarette smoke cloud over him like he was behind a race car speeding down the track. DI Tyler was determined this was going to be a fresh start. He'd realised that - although he didn't particularly want to admit it - he couldn't cope entirely on his own. He couldn't keep the city of Manchester safe without the group of coppers around him. He wasn't superman. He certainly wasn't invincible. And now he appreciated that, even if – and only _if _- his whole life was now sculpted like a castle in the sky.

He knew that he'd got a good group of people around him, a strong team of coppers and personalities. He just needed to trust in them.

Turning left, heading towards the locker room, Sam's face lifted when he saw a beautifully familiar face standing vaguely still. Her deep brown hair curled in the same way that he' always remembered, her blue eyes focused on what she was doing. Her mild humming was as pretty as she; effortlessly so, like a butterfly swimming through the air into the dusk.

Tip toeing inside, Sam joined in with her humming, recognising the tune; 'Somewhere over the Rainbow'.

She jumped slightly, thinking that she was alone. Then her eyes fell on the near stranger close by. Her smile lit her whole face, a toothy grin engulfing any look of misery she may have had before.

"Sam!" she cried, leaping into his arms. "How are you? You didn't tell me you were going to be back today?"

Tightening his grip, Sam inhaled, taking in all of her scent that he possibly could; a steady fragrance of roses and sweetness, almost like honey. He'd missed that smell. He'd missed her gentle touch, soothing him even when he didn't particularly need it.

The sign of true love, perhaps?

He closed his eyes, enjoying the moment. She'd told him to do that, a long time ago. Yet, he'd never felt the need. This was all a dream - there was no need to enjoy it, right?

No. It this was now his reality.

"I wanted to surprise you," he softly spoke, breathlessly. They now stood inches apart, their hands entwined in quiet appreciation of the other. They wanted to see every millimetre of each other, to engrave this moment permanently in their minds. "You look great."

She flushed as her head bowed with a mild implication of embarrassment. "You do too," she replied, tracing her finger tips under his sharp, hazel eyes. Her sight became narrower as she smiled outwardly, pleased with her findings. "No dark circles then?"

"No. I actually managed to sleep for over an hour most nights."

"Most nights?" she eyed him suspiciously, her speech sing song like.

"Ok all nights!" he confessed, beaming widely to her. For Sam Tyler - used to restless nights of interrupted, panicked sleep and girls wielding stuffed clowns - this was certainly an achievement. "If you were there, well, it may have been a different story..."

His voice was vaguely coy but playful, unintentionally flirtatious. Just joyous – happy to be near her once again.

"Oi!" she laughed aloud, smacking him cheekily on the chest. Oh how she'd missed him. Even when he was being a pert little sod! Still, all harmless; all was fair in love and war.

He looked mildly shocked, mocking as if the tap had actually caused pain. He bent a little to kiss her lips warmly, a touch that neither of them had experienced for what seemed like ages.

They stood like that for several minutes, their lips touching in silent awe. Their kisses were gentle, emotional without being an outpouring of feeling; just pure gracious pleasure.

"Is there anything I should look out for?" he quizzed, breaking away from the passionate embrace.

"No, not really," she shook her head, visibly disappointed that their moment alone was coming to an abrupt end. "Not that I can think of anyway."

If there was one thing that would never change, it was Sam's commitment to work. She should have seen it coming; he wouldn't solely be in the station for a quick kiss and cuddle with his girlfriend, surely?

He invited her in for another hug, making sure that their grasps were as close as they could be. "You know, I missed you, Annie."

She gazed up at him, her eyes slowly becoming aware of his words. "Really?"

"Of course - why do you sound so shocked?"

Annie let go a little, jerking her shoulders indefinitely. "I dunno, it's just you didn't ring or anything."

"Neither did you!" Sam rationally retaliated with a little chuckle.

"True," she agreed, nuzzling against his neck once again. "Did you want to go for a drink, you know, after work?"

Her request sounded almost like a shy teenager, reluctant to agree to a first date without their parent's permission. She noticed Sam smirk, realising what she'd said sounded most absurd.

"Sure, anything for you."

With their lips parted but edging closer together, they heard a loud knock behind them. They leapt apart, peering at the other officer stood in the doorway, a face that neither of them were over excited to be graced with.

"Annie, love, when you get a minute, DS Carling wants you to file these away," the haggard, smaller woman told, shuffling closer to the couple. "Oh, hello DI Tyler, I didn't think you were due back yet?"

"No, I wasn't. But I got bored watching paint dry back home."

Phyllis rolled her eyes, passing Miss. Cartwright the folders. "Well, welcome back." she greeted as warmly as she was ever going to.

One thing that would never change about Phyllis was her unintentionally aloof persona. Really she wasn't like that; she was a great hand when need be, as hard as nails. Someone who, if she was on your side in a fight, would be an unobvious asset but a valuable one all the same.

As she turned to leave, Sam followed her, offering a wink to Annie as he departed. "Say, Phyllis, have you seen the Gov about?"

She paused for a split second. "Yeah, I think 'e's in 'is office. I think he's got a young girl in with 'im though so you might not be able to see 'im straight away."

Sam frowned inquisitively, wondering exactly what was going on _this_ time. He thanked her before making his way inside CID. The smoke screen got worse as he walked closer; he certainly hadn't missed that over the past few weeks; the feeling of fog creeping into his lungs like a not so friendly ghost.

As he pulled the doors open, he stood in silent contemplation, glancing briefly from side to side; the place certainly hadn't got any more peaceful or tidy since his brief break. There were files stacked haphazardly all over the place, a sure fire health and safety hazard. The desks were littered with empty coffee cups and whisky bottles, sweet wrappers and other food items.

It looked like DI Tyler would have a lot more work today than he'd bargained for.

But he did think for a second how fond the heart does grow through absence; although he sometimes detested the place, hated the dumb crime in the city and disliked the people, deep down their was a burning admiration for it - for a few people in particular.

Thinking that he'd not been noticed by anyone, as if he was invisible, he was sadly mistaken when Chris came bounding over to him, sandwich affixed to his palm.

"Heya, boss! Did you have a good 'oliday?"

Sam couldn't help but smile at the rather energetic man before him, complete with oily tomato ketchup running down his chin. "Yeah, good thanks. How about you, are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine, ta."

They nodded to each other; it was very clear that the young Skelton had missed DI Tyler's presence in the office immensely. He'd been over looked quite a bit over the past few weeks. In fact, he'd nearly punched Ray in the nose when he started taking all of the credit for their rescue attempt at the Smith's residence.

Still, it didn't stop Skelton acting like a puppy excited to see their old owner the moment the Inspector waltzed back in the place.

Sam marched over to his desk, picking over odd documents and pens that had been stashed there. His eyes scanned them, detecting the ones that required the most attention.

"Say, Chris, do you know who the Gov is with?"

Chris took another bite out of his butty, shrugging. "Nope, sorry. Some cute bird, though. Beautiful 'air, even if she did look a bit upset."

Sam nodded, as if he understood. In truth, he wasn't really listening although he did wonder why crying would interrupt the condition of hair. He was too preoccupied with a piece of paper, written in the Gov's best joined up, before him. _'Oi, Gladys, when you get back, get your scrawny arse into me office before I 'ave to drag you in by it!'_

Sam tittered openly; it really was like little had changed in Manchester's A Division - even though he felt he'd evolved a thousand times over in the past few weeks. Then, he guessed he knew he wouldn't have it any other way.

He slapped the paper with the back of his hand, skipping over to the office, his eyes still locked on the sheet before him.

Suddenly, a gust of wind nearly knocked him flying, barging into his shoulder and out of the double doors like a flash of lightening.

The girl had appeared from the Gov's office; a spark of bright, sandy blonde hair sprinted past him, her whimpering low in an attempt not to be noticed. However, she thudded her way out of the building in such a way it would have been impossible _not_ to have noticed her.

Sam turned, shocked at what he'd just seen. She looked barely older than twenty, her soft sobs denoting that she was possibly younger; that she had yet to find strength in her voice. As if she was still maturing, realising it was ok to have your own opinions. Boy, had he been there before.

Sam chuckled wryly, keeping the sound deep, stuck in his throat; it was all only slightly amusing. He shook his head, determined that nothing was going to put him in a bad mood.

Until he saw his Governors face.

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Please review and check back soon! Thank you! 


	2. Chapter 2: His face tells the story

**Thank you to everyone who reviewed the first chapter of 'Keeping It In The Family?', especially to Big fan and talkingtothesky for taking the time to review. I hope you all like this chapter which I do think is a lot better. Last time was just an introduction to set the scene for the shape of things to come.**

**Enjoy!**

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DCI Gene Hunt lent against the metal filing cabinet, his face as hard as stone. He barely noticed the presence of the younger man as he walked casually yet now reticently into the smoky office. 

Sam felt the sides of his mouth twitch in deliberation; how would it be honestly best to handle this situation?

"Hi, er, Gov."

The sentence, short, unthreatening but strangely impactful cut across the atmosphere like a dagger through naked flesh. Gene was bleeding on the inside, Sam could just tell; there was a certain, unspoken bond between them now. After days of being trapped inside a rotting room, Sam felt that he now had a better understanding of his Governor.

Or perhaps not.

"Tyler." Gene's voice was low, untraceably level. He hadn't expected to see his Inspector that day. In fact, there was a time when he questioned whether the picky pain in the arse was ever going to return.

"Is everything ok?" Sam's question was polite, possibly unbearably so. It was one of those sort of things you asked when you had nothing better to say. Or when you didn't have the imagination to think of anything else.

Yet, the Gene Genie didn't have his usual sarcastic wit about him to think of a good response. So he was honest. Not brutally so, just very plain with his DI. "No, no it's not."

Sam licked his lips, folding the paper in half as he spied the Gov delving in his filing cabinet. He knew exactly what he was seeking.

He glanced at his watch. "Gov, do you not think it's a bit early, you know, to be drinking?"

Gene's hardened face chipped, only marginally. "No."

His brief reply was often more dangerous - or at least, Sam considered it to be more dangerous - than a long winded, explosive rant.

Sam gazed towards the door, his mind absent, listening to the plop of the orange liquid landing against the glass. "Tell me, who was that girl?"

Gene snorted, plonking himself in his recliner, banging his feet against the worn desk. It was still very clear who was running the show, like a lion in the zoo, pacing, as the on lookers became mesmerized by its great authority and presence. "Someone."

Sam cringed at the bitterness. "Who was she?"

"My worst nightmare, that's what." he snorted, throwing the beverage down his neck, his aim remarkably clear.

He slammed the tumbler down, his steely eyes transfixed by its mere nothingness. How transparent and un-mystical it all was. How he wished sometimes he was as shallow as that glass. Yet it would take all of the fun out of any day.

Sam had learnt a long time ago that crossing an angry Gene was probably not the best or most sensible idea. But now he knew Gene a lot more thoroughly than before. The feeling was mutual. He was allowed to push the silence.

"Why?"

Although his DI's tone was not whiney but thoughtful and straightforward, Gene hadn't taken it that way; he'd seen it as almost a threat to his privacy. "What the bloody 'ell as it got to do with you, Tyler?"

Sam was stunned by his Governors response. After everything he'd told him about his past over the past few weeks and now this? He grunted, shaking his head, appalled. "Because, _Gene_, I would expect by now that we'd have grown that faith in one another. I didn't tell you all of that about my past a couple of weeks ago for you not to return the favour."

Gene stood, preparing himself for the battle. "Don't throw me that bullshit, Tyler! I'd always known you were psycho!"

"And I'd always known you were an egomaniacal, stubborn bastard that just wants it one way all of the time!"

"Oh and like you don't?" Gene retaliated, spitting venom. "I had to nearly push you over the damn edge before you'd tell me anything about your past, before you'd stop me from watching you fall into your own noncy thoughts!"

They stood toe to toe, their noses barely apart. They could feel each others breath intimidated close to their necks; a fusion of mint and alcohol blending imperfectly together to create a sour concoction.

Sam held the Gov's gaze, pinching his breath in his nose. His chest rose, refusing to back down. "Try me before _I'm_ forced to push."

Gene shook his head, returning over to his desk where the half empty bottle stood. He knew there was no turning back now. There couldn't possibly be. He took another glass from the cabinet, before bolting the door shut; he didn't want any unwanted visitors at this time.

"You must promise me," he began, standing almost anxiously behind his desk "That what I tell you, you will not tell to another living soul, you understand?"

Gene was on the verge of whispering, something Sam knew he didn't do very often. What ever he had to say was obviously something deep to his heart, something that could well change their relationship entirely.

"You have my word." he confirmed just as quietly, taking a cracked, plastic seat from the corner. He had a feeling this would be a long conversation.

Unscrewing the cap of the whisky bottle, Sam could see Gene's hands quiver; it wasn't like someone shaking through a fever or in the winter's wind. But there _was_ a shake of the hands, be it only slight. He was nervous, an emotion that Sam didn't suspect his Gov to have.

The offering of the alcohol seemed a little inappropriate to Sam; it sounded like this whole venture was going to be complicated, something that needed his full attention. He couldn't approach it correctly if his mind was fuzzy with whisky.

Still, he accepted the glass gratefully, staring at it with a modest amount of suspicion. He did question briefly whether he should be drinking this soon after finishing his set of antibiotics for his broken ribs. He didn't dwell on it for too long though, taking a sip of it regardless of any creeping doubts.

Gene collapsed in the chair, his whisky sloshing against the side of the tumbler. His face had barely moved; no expression had been expressed, not even when he was yelling at his DI.

He stared at the bottomless glass for a while, his lips pursed as if they were concrete. He (for once) was considering exactly what to say. How to say what he was feeling without 'coming over all Dorothy'.

"I promise that I won't tell anyone." Sam repeated, hoping to reinforce confidence.

Gene snorted, shifting his weight higher into the chair. "I mean it, Tyler. If you breathe a word of this to anyone, I swear your bollocks will be stabbed with a very blunt instrument - of my choosing..."

Gene's voice didn't seem hecked up, failing to even sound threatening; he just muttered the words quietly, his tone uncertain. Sam knew that he meant what he said though. Well, maybe not about the bollocks bit, but about keeping whatever he had to say quiet...

"Seventeen years ago, I moved 'ere to be a part of this very Manchester police station. I was working down town but wanted a transfer. I knew that in a few years their number would be up and we'd all be looking for other jobs. So I came 'ere, 'oping to get the promotion I'd always wanted."

Sam nodded, taking another low sip of the whisky. He was trying his best to picture, a younger, fitter Gene Hunt. One who had as much hunger as he did, working up the ranks.

"So, after a couple of weeks, I was bumped up to Sergeant. Perfect - new start, promotion, engaged."

Sam's eyes flickered up when the word 'engaged' was mention. He wasn't entirely sure how long him and the missus had been together; it was never something Gene discussed in much detail. There was still no emotion in Gene's voice, not even upon that memory; Sam had always regarded engagements to be the happiest of a couple's time together.

It didn't sound that way for the Gene Genie.

"I was the 'appiest I'd ever been in me life. Content with a bright future at the station and soon to be married. One day, Harry Wolf and I with a couple of other nonces were given a call about a hookers den. About odd noises and what not. Harry couldn't be arsed to deal with that. He had bigger fish to fry. News had just come in about a double murder down the road. So, 'aving vast amounts of faith in me and this bloke called Constable Scarlet, 'e sent us down there to deal with it."

Gene sniffed, sarcasm creeping across his voice like a lost ghost; how his stomach now cringed when he mentioned Harry Wolf. Bastard.

"I didn't particularly want to go - the missus, I knew, wouldn't 'ave been over thrilled if she'd found out about it," he chuckled only slightly. He tried to work out exactly how he wore the trousers in the marriage. Obviously an ill fitting pair. "When we got there, it was a right tip. Bloodied newspapers sprawled out everywhere, the odd empty bottle of wine, condom wrappers. Not that they ever did a lot for _some_ people."

Gene's tone dropped to hostility. Sam frowned slightly, his forehead creasing in near sympathy; so much for a good day.

"We only went down there, ya know, to close the scene down. I told them that they shouldn't carry on like this. I told them to go and get themselves proper jobs, support the country in a more effective manner. Even if they were only birds, they 'ad enough of a brain to stack shelves or something."

"So you've always been a Chauvinist?" Sam interjected, his hands now cupping one another.

"No, I'm not a fan of the Russians." he replied witty although Sam did have to question whether it was wit or just stupidity. "There was one bird there wh-"

"You do know what a Chauvinist is, don't you?" DI Tyler quizzed, leaning back harder against the chair, his arms folded pertly across his chest.

"Will you bloody shut up! I don't feel like one of your nancy boy History lessons right now!" Gene demanded, his voice still lacking its usual sense of authority. "Anyway, _like I was saying_, there was this one bird who instantly caught me eye. Beautiful she was. A near perfect English rose. Mid height, long chocolate brunette 'air, dark eyes. She was far prettier than anybody else there. Stunning."

Gene tisked, briefly examining her journey in life; why on earth anyone that gorgeous would turn to prostitution was beyond him almost completely; she could have been an actress, a model. Certainly not a prostitute. "She had an amazing figure. Lean but with meat in all of the right places."

"Are you sure you picked her up in a boudoir and not at the local deli?" Sam asked. The question was very wry, almost Gene like. The cynicism seeped through like water in a siv.

Gene plumped his lips, his nose lifting in quiet disgrace. "'Ere I am, telling you exactly what you wanted to know and you ain't even paying attention."

Sam new he'd crossed the line; Gene hadn't been that much of a bastard with him. "Sorry."

DCI Hunt continued, seeing the sincerity in his Inspectors eyes. "I went over to 'er, turned on a bit of the Gene Hunt charm. I told 'er she could do so much better for 'erself. I told 'er that prostitution was a dangerous occupation, especially for something as sweet as 'er."

"Did she listen to you?" Sam pestered, although he feared what the answer might be.

"Did she 'ell!" he snarled, more angry at himself for not preventing it. "So, being the good copper that I was and still am, I kept an eye out for 'er, ya know, making sure that she kept out of trouble. That she kept paying 'er rent on time, kept 'ealthy, didn't do any drugs. Not that she really 'ad the money to do that..."

Gene's voice trailed off into oblivion, shifting through memories.

"Did she, you know, stay healthy and everything?"

"Oh yeah, she was fine. I was originally meant to take 'er to the cop station, get 'er fined for what she was doing."

"Did you?" Sam pressed. His Gov couldn't maintain eye contact with him any longer. "_Did you_?"

Gene couldn't find the energy to answer. His head, held wearily in his palms, nearly collapsed on him. It was as if the Governor had developed a serious case of laryngitis; he didn't reply, his face turned almost white as beads of sweat fell freely.

Sam didn't want to push that subject any further; he knew that his Gov would tell him when he was good and ready. It was as if he'd already laid his heart and soul out on a silver platter for his Inspector to analyse already. Sam, however, was determined not to leave until his one vital question had been answered.

"Ok, just answer me this then, Gene - who was that girl, from earlier?"

Sam, if he was a betting man, would have put his life savings against Gene's face dropping anymore. How much more wrong he could have been, he didn't know.

Gene lifted his head, grunting reservedly. "You really wanna know who that _girl_ was?"

Sam nodded, urging his boss to continue.

"She...she's my daughter."

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To be continued... 

Well done, talkingtothesky!

Thank you for reading this far - any feedback, good or bad, would be much appreciated!


	3. Chapter 3: She's your daughter?

Hi! Thank you for coming to check out the next chapter of 'Keeping it in the Family?'. I'd just like to say a quick thanks to talkingtothesky, Iaveina, losttimelady and cid girl for reviewing my last chapter! I hope everyone enjoys this offering! Any questions or suggestions you may have, please contact me and I'll see what I can do!

Enjoy!

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Sam sat in whimsically silent horror. His face was level, too shocked to show any scrap of emotion. "She's _your_ daughter?" He finally asked, his voice a barely audible whisper. 

Gene glanced up to him, his eyes still mentally transfixed to the empty glass of Scotch that was nursed in his hands. "Yes."

Never before had Sam been dealt with such an impossibly straight sentence from his Gov. No ounce of sarcasm was detected, no hidden meanings or jokes. Nothing. And, truthfully, he would have never expected that of Gene. He'd always secretly liked the snappy remarks and wit he'd delivered quicker than a right hand. Even if sometimes they were a little unprofessional.

Most men would be delighted at the news of their first born (if that was indeed what the young girl was to Gene). Most would be ecstatic at the thought of carrying on their bloodline, of raising the next generation of youngsters into good, worldly citizens. Then Sam's memory jumped to 2006 - images of yobs, news of paternity battles and what not clouding his idealistic notions.

The two men sat in near silence for what seemed like hours; although this had paddled about through Gene's mind for some time, he - like his DI - were struggling against the rough seas, not able to swim back to the shore.

Sam swallowed, relishing the last droplet of the whisky. "Did you know?"

Gene's nod was only distant, his eyes focused solely on the tumbler that his finger tips clutched. "She told me...her mam as soon as she found out."

"How could she be certain it was yours?"

"She knew. She told me that she hadn't had a lot of sex in that month. She wanted to stay clear from us coppers for a while before her livelihood was taken away."

Gene griped at the idea of prostitution being a profession, compared to his, a man of authority. Someone who the public respected looked to for advice and protection. Or at least, that was what _he_ hoped the general public did.

Sam was about to open his mouth and suggest a paternity test. Sometimes he even surprised himself with his futuristic ideas; he still wasn't entirely 1973 orientated.

"And you believe her?"

Sam's dry cynicism struck a chord with Gene; he looked to the younger man, seeing a near reflection of himself. That would have been the exact comment he would have slapped Tyler with, had he been in his situation.

"Sam, I hope it never happens to you but I want to tell you something," Gene started. "There is just an instinct that you have when you hear something like that. She's _my_ daughter. I trust my gut."

"Have you ever met before today?" Sam asked, half coyly, half demanding an answer.

"No. I saw 'er when she was just born like. After that, being engaged and all, I kept me distance. I didn't want to get in any trouble with the Missus." he snorted, continuing with his forlorn memories. "She would send me pictures of 'er. Every six months, regular as clockwork. I'd always make sure I was at 'ome the night before so I could get the post before the wife saw it. The envelopes would always have a distinct smell to them. Cigarettes, 'er dodgy, cheap perfume and Vodka. Each time there would be a letter, just of random things. 'Ow she was gettin' on at school, that kind of rubbish."

Although Gene's turn of phrase was harsh, he himself could sense that he didn't mean it; it was his relentless facade that disguised his inner good guy. He wasn't really such an old git; He just acted like it sometimes.

"So, what did she want?" Sam quizzed, going for the direct approach rather than swinging around the subject.

"She wants me to give 'er a job."

"What?" Sam's voice became high. "Here?"

"No at the bloody knickers factory! Use your brain, Tyler!"

"So, are you going to oblige her by giving her a job here?"

Gene nodded, slowly, tipping the remainder of his whisky to the back of his neck. "And guess what?"

Sam looked up, an eyebrow arched at the more positive sounding DCI; his eyes had a strange sparkle to them. Not quite evil but hardly innocent. "What?"

"She's going to be trained by you!"

DI Tyler chortled, shaking his head as his tongue poking the side of his mouth. He laughed a little louder, finally recognising his Chief's serious expression. "You're not joking...are you?"

"Nope."

"Why me?"

Gene had expected the almost whiney inquiry from his Inspector. He thought that it would all be pretty much self explanatory; a bright lad like Sam Tyler hardly needed to be reminded of this, Gene thought. Unless he just wanted his ego plumping up.

"Well, Sammy-Boy, I thought you liked a challenge?"

"I do." he stated rather firmly but still quizzical. "But Gov, what experience does a sixteen year old girl have out on the streets?"

"None. That's why I'm gettin' you to do it."

Sam could barely believe what he was hearing. "But Gene, she's still a _girl_!" he cried, his face turning redder, "She's got _no_ experience what-so-ever yet you expect her to ride around with me and learn the ropes?"

"Look," Gene demanded, his voice huskily sharp, already not wanting to hear the long list of excuses from his DI. "I don't have a choice, Tyler. Do you really think I want 'er around 'ere for any length of time? We 'ave more important things to do than training young upstarts!"

"But?" Tyler gasped in trivial vexation.

"_But_, I want her to get a good education. I want 'er to 'ave a better career than 'er Mam did. She's just dropped out of school..."

"Well, that's an excellent start!" Sam exclaimed dryly. "Why not just send her off to PC Plods Policing School as you so fondly call it?"

Gene rubbed a rough hand over his craggy chin. "She's my daughter. I owe her nothing. If she's going to be a pain in the arse I would sooner she did it in ear shot rather than gossiping to everyone about me."

It was obvious that Gene wasn't going to budge. It didn't mean that Sam felt happy about it. It was a lot for him to take in, Gene even having a daughter. Yet the idea of taking someone under his wing was a distant memory to him from a time when he himself was a DCI. Or from a time when he _may_ have been a DCI.

"Ok, but why me?"

Gene sighed in annoyance; did he really have to answer that? "Because, Dorothy, I trust you. I know that you wouldn't try and take advantage of 'er. Ray would constantly take this piss about it. Chris would try and touch 'er up - Ray would do if 'e didn't know she was my kid. Annie is too inexperienced. She could 'elp you out keep 'er in order, 'elp 'er fit in but other than that I want you to do it."

Sam's face told the story of his emotions; he seriously doubted his Governors decision here. "Is this really the only way? What did her Mum say to all this?"

Gene sighed once again at his own confusion. This part was not going to be easy to explain. "'Er mam's disappeared into thin air. That's part of the problem. She wants to stay round mine but the missus would never 'ave it. She doesn't even know the brat exists let alone 'avin' 'er in our 'ouse!"

Sam cringed at the notion of her being a brat. From what he'd heard, she'd had a turbulent life to say the least. Surely she's just alone, scared, in need of someone?

"Is that why she ran out crying, like she did?"

Gene nodded. "Yeah. I told 'er that you'd pop round sometime to see 'er."

"What?!" Sam exclaimed in a very high pitch fashion; Gene's answer had been far swifter than he'd ever expected. "Are you expecting _me_ to go round and meet a person I've only just heard about who you expect me to train to be a copper?"

"Oh stop moaning Gladys! I'll be comin' with ya. It's quite a messed up area that they live in so I want to come with you, ya know, to make sure nothing dodgy 'appens." he sniffed, grabbing the Cortina keys.

In all truthfulness, Gene was a little worried about Sam venturing to that part of the city alone. It was dangerous to say the least, full of muggers and criminals. It was his Inspectors first day back on the beat after a mentally, physically and emotionally draining case. It was important that he looked out for him. Although he would never admit it, of course.

Sam pulled his leather jacket from his desk; Chris was still sat stuffing his face. "Where you goin' boss?"

DI Tyler turned to his superior officer, seeing a faint flash of panic in his eyes. "Uh, well, we're just going to meet up with someone who knows something about a burglary."

Although Sam's lie was done very badly, it seemed to impress a rather naive DC Skelton quite a bit. "Do you need us to come with you?" he questioned, turning to look at Ray and Annie.

"No, we want you tarts to stay 'ere and guard the phones."

Ray approached the scene, his gum chewing suspiciously loud. "Do you think it's safe for you two to go out, you know, on your own like? We all know what 'appened last time, don't we?"

Sam knew that was a dig at both of them, not just himself (just for a change). DS Carling had somehow been offended when Sam and the Gov had been locked away for those couple of days. He seemed to feel left out, almost, as if he should have been the one with Gene.

"Piss off Carling and get back to filing yer nails!" Gene barked, snarling proudly at his response as they made their way to the copper coloured Cortina.

The wind bashed them towards the motor, so much so that Sam groaned; the day had started only too well. Where had it all gone wrong?

He watched Gene, trying to figure out exactly what he was thinking; he knew that if he was having trouble getting his head around all of this, it must be ten times harder for the man himself. Yet the Gov seemed to sail through his motions, relishing the fierce growl of the engine as the car bounded along the road, swerving just barely passed the older members of the city.

Behind that though, Sam could detect an ambience of concern in the Governors eyes; the blues and greens swirling in an uncertain pool of unspoken anxiety, heightened by his own concepts of Fatherhood. He could tell that the Gov had never - for one single second - ever imagined that he'd be forced to take responsibility for the girl. He didn't even say whether he helped pay for any financial needs of either Mother or Daughter.

"We aren't goin' round 'er 'ouse," Gene's voice crashed through the silence "We're goin' to a quiet cafe on the corner."

"Where abouts is it?"

"Barker Street."

Sam chuckled with a splutter. "Oh yeah, like anything there is quiet!"

Gene either couldn't be arsed to reply or ignored his Inspector; he knew himself that he was rather nervy about entering the territory of Barker Street. It was indeed the perfect place to be crawling with Prostitutes and Pimps. Hardly a place where a young girl of sixteen should be wondering about on her own either.

Pulling up on the opposite side of the road to the cafe in question, Sam and Gene peered at the place grimly; it was hardly the Ritz. The windows 'Cafe' paintwork now read 'af' as the window frames appeared bitten and stabbed at. Perhaps the tiny holes denoted where bullets were once sprayed like a hose pipe.

"So this is it?" DI Tyler gasped in mere worry. It was never right to judge a book by its cover. His Mum had taught him that when he was young. Yet, this was hardly the place where you'd expect a future copper to emerge from without a few battle scars.

"Yeah, classy joint, huh?" Gene chortled sarcastically, snorting at the shoddiness of the building.

But what will happen when Sam and Gene meet his DCI Hunt's long lost daughter?

To be continued...

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Thank you for reading! I always love to read any feedback that you may have! 


	4. Chapter 4: Bitterness begins

**Hey! Thanks to everyone who has come back to read Chapter 4 of this and thank you so much to everyone who read the last instalment, especially talkingtothesky, Iaveina, losttimelady and Innogen who took the time out to review! I am so grateful for any comments – good or bad – that anyone has so don't be shy to let me know what you think. As long as it's constructive, I'm always happy to listen!**

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The two officers of Manchester's A Division strolled into the dingy Cafe, one doing his best to be discrete about his authority, the other embracing an attention warmly. It was one thing using their influence against soon to be convicted criminals (and, to be fair, that's what many in this establishment appeared to be) but trying to provoke trouble would be a mistake from the get go, at least in the mind of DI Tyler. 

The smoke clung near the top of the ceiling like a grey veil, staining the once white wall with yellow like teeth. Sam smirked, hoping one day for a 'No Smoking' law to be imposed. He thought he remembered his Mum telling him something about it, or hearing it over a radio somewhere in the back of his mind.

Gene glanced over at the counter, his eyes coming in contact with the blonde stood with his back to him making a customer a cup of coffee. Sam meanwhile was still scanning the area for the young woman. He didn't get too good a glimpse at her early. At least her running ability was good enough to be made a copper!

The blonde spun on her heels, her sandy locks tied together clumsily with a red and white spotted ribbon. Her eyes were a downcast hazel, her mind obviously not on the job at hand. "Thank you sir, is there anything else I can get for you?"

Her turn of phrase was drawn out by her lethargic sigh and slow speech. It was clear that she simply couldn't be arsed; as if she was living the same day a thousand times over.

The stout, bearded gentleman took the coffee in one hand, his greying features lighting up at a more hopeful proposition. "Well, maybe after work, you could..."

"OI!" Gene yelled, marching over to the counter; he took no pleasure in the older bloke's savvy, perverted chat up lines.

Sam hastily put a hand on his shoulder, watching the Governor clenching his fist, his eyes sharp.

Gene exhaled, a deep throated growl making the shorter man hurry away. He ordered for his Inspector to find a table somewhere in the corner, instructing his offspring to follow them shortly.

Sam's eyes diverted from the young woman as soon as Gene made his way over to the table. His boss took a seat beside him, folding his arms over his chest as his legs sprawled out underneath the table. He was trying to give the impression that she was wasting his time; that he couldn't give two shits about being where they were. His ever impatient pout capturing his lips, this time it looked false in a sort of over-exaggerated actor kind of way.

"Is she like you?" Sam asked, trying to learn a little more about the young woman before they were formally introduced.

Gene snorted. "What do you think this is, a blind bloody date?"

"Well, ok then - what's her name?"

"Casey." he answered bluntly. "'Er mam's choice, not mine. If she were mine, she would 'ave 'ad a decent name."

Sam tried not to laugh. Really, there was nothing funny about that at all. In fact, it was rather tragic that Gene had had so little to do with his only child. At least Sam was guessing she was Gene's only child.

It was rather the thought to Gene doing Daddy things like taking his children to the park or buying them ice cream. Teaching them how to ride their first bike without swearing at them when they fell over the handlebars. Trivial little things like that made Sam chuckle, as if his minds eye was projecting his ludicrous images for the world to see.

Perhaps not.

Gene saw his right hand mans face turn redder with each passing second. "What's the matter, Gladys? Your big 'ead finally gonna explode, ay?"

Sam stopped dead in his tracks as Gene turned to notice the little confrontation between Casey and her boss. He looked like a regular greasy spoon worker; tubby with his guts spilling over the edge of his trousers like a bad soufflé, oily skin and a shiny bald head with a paper, napkin like hat as a poor wig.

Taking her fraying and filthy apron from over her head, Casey's thick hair swung in time to her funeral march like walk; seeing Gene was about the most unappealing thought in her head right now. Although she wanted the help, it was dreadful that it was his that she needed.

She slung her apron down onto the coffee stained table, not caring about the splodges of tomato ketchup now spreading on the fabric, like blood from a gunshot wound. Trying to hide her teenage like tantrum in favour of a much more mature approach, she imitated her estranged Father's actions. Gene saw right through it though, rolling his eyes at her.

"Father?" she spoke, her tone attempting to sound snotty, as if it was a pain in the arse Gene being in a hundred mile radius of her.

The Gov shuddered at this name. "Uh, this is my DI, Sam Tyler - Inspector Tyler to _you_."

She turned to Sam, her face lighting up a little as a small smile struck the delicate features of her pale, olive skin. "Nice to meet you," she greeted, levelling her face and extended her hand for which the gentleman took. He was a little weary, half expecting the slide of the greasy food with the spread of germs. Instead, her hands were warm and soft as her fingers laced across the palm of his hand gently. She didn't want to seem too familiar, for the first casual meeting with her boss. Yet, she didn't want to seem ungrateful; he really was doing her a massive favour.

They let go of the others hand, no wanting to cling for too long. Their eyes let go of the others gaze, as the Detective Chief Inspector spoke about her subsequent training.

"I want to get a couple of things straight now we're acquainted," Gene spoke quietly, his face becoming ridged. "First and foremost, 'e is your superior officer. When you don't answer to me, you answer to 'im."

Casey sat up to a more professional posture as she pushed her lengthily fringe away from her eyes. She wasn't expecting her Father's reaction to be quite that abrasive.

"Secondly, I want you in the office on time, everyday. If for one second you think it's acceptable to turn up even a minute late than you are scheduled, you can forget even trying to make it in my section."

Sam lost connection with the girl completely. Gene was being a little demanding of her to say the least; he'd seemed to have forgotten that she was only a sixteen year old girl. Someone who probably wasn't used to that kind of grilling that early on in her life.

"Thirdly, if you want to make it as a copper, you need to listen to everything Dorothy says." Gene commanded, pointing over to the more sympathetic man, his ears perking up at the mention of his pet name.

Casey raised an eyebrow in perplexity. "Dorothy? I thought his name was Inspector Tyler?"

Sam couldn't help but smirk. She was certainly picking this stuff up fast. He'd become the master of irritating Gene but it seemed that there was a new contender in town.

"To you, 'e is DI Tyler. To me, 'e is Dorothy, Gladys..."

"Doris, Edna, Enid. The list goes on really."

Casey giggled, covering her mouth with her hand to try and hide her obvious amusement. Her cheeks turned pinker as her hazel eyes tapered in merriment. Maybe Sam Tyler was more human that her Father was giving him credit?

Gene glared at Sam as he held his hands out in mocking defence. The Chief sharply glowered to the young girl, as she pressed her lips together and looked to the ground, kicking a piece of dropped toast out of sight. She swung her bare legs against the leatherette seat, her youth becoming palpable as she awaited the next set of ear bashing instructions.

"Fourthly, if I tell you I don't want you working on a mission, you don't, ok? We don't want any needless casualties along the way. Fifthly..."

"Oi, Case! You comin' back to work or wha?"

As the boss called her, Casey turned to examine the surroundings. "Give me two minutes, ok?"

"Jus' coz there ain't no customers, don't mean there isn't work to be done!" he bawled disgruntledly, stomping his way back into the kitchen as the walls clattered from his near rapid movement and velocity of door swinging.

Gene curled a lip, finding yet another nonce. "Fifthly, you do as you are told. If we don't tell you to do summats, don't do as 'Inspector Tyler' does and go off one a whim. Wait until you get instructions."

Casey sat towards the edge of her seat, chewing her lip as she glanced up at the clock to her left. "Father, I really need to get ba-"

"You can wait a couple of minutes. It's not like you're gonna be working 'ere for much longer!" Gene requested rather bluntly. "Sixthly, now this is important."

He leant in, his finger beckoning for her to do the same. "You do not, under any circumstances, cop off with any of my other officers. The last thing we can do with is you up the duff by the end of yer first week..."

"Father, what do you take me for? My mother?"

Her bitterness astounded both men.

"Oh, and one last thing..."

"Then can I go?" she mumbled. Cautiously out of the corner of her eye, she spied her boss tapping the face of his watch manically. Sam thought that at least she wouldn't have to get used to a different temperament of boss at least.

"You do not mention that we are related. You do not tell anyone that I'm your Father...you simply _don't_ call me that in public, got it?"

Casey nodded, her mouth twisting into an almost dazed frown as her cheeks ripened.

"Good," Gene gasped, glad that the 'induction' ceremony was over with. "You'll be using your mam's last name then?"

"Yes - like I've used any other my whole life?"

Sam saw a lot of Gene in Casey already; the sarcastic attitude, the smart arse answers. It really did bring a whole new edge to the nature/nurture debate.

"You call me Gov, or DCI Hunt, ok?"

"Yes." her monosyllabic answer still had an undercurrent of anxiety to it. Sam expected that her feelings were genuine; she wanted to be strong, trying to act up to Gene and be older than she was. But, underneath the cheap bluff was actually a tiny girl who felt confused, quietly alone. Someone who was desperate to prove something, not only to herself but to others around her. Especially to her Dad who seemingly expected a lot less of her than he was going to get.

The silence of the three people sat around the table was becoming uncomfortable; Casey was unsure of how to act. Her gut told her to be stroppy, to be the teenager that she truly was. Yet, her mind told her to be professional, as if she knew how to act in front of older gentlemen of such power. DCI Hunt and DI Tyler certainly were doing her a major favour, more than both of them cared to admit.

"Have you told your boss that you're packing up here, Casey?" Sam questioned his voice kind yet subtle in his compassionate approach.

Casey was taken aback by Sam's sudden quizzing. For the most part he'd just sat there listening to her answers, letting Gene do all of the talking. "Uh yeah, when I got in this morning. He's not too happy coz I only took the job a week ago!"

Sam and Casey shared a short, faint laugh, Gene continuing to sit with a face like stone.

"Well, we'd better be goin' soon, Gladys. We've got _real_ problems to solve." he remarked, standing and pulling his camel coat closer to his body. In all truthfulness, the only problem Gene had to solve now was whether to have a pint or double malt down the Railway Arms.

Sam pulled himself up, standing beside his DCI, awaiting his instructions surprisingly obediently. Casey stood before them, looking a little anxious from the two men before back over to her current boss.

"So, when do I start?" she asked, her hands dug deep inside her lose fitting jeans pockets. She'd certainly inherited her height from Gene. Thankfully - for her - not his waist!

"Tomorrow morning, 9am sharp," Gene insisted, pulling his gloves tighter against his hands. "You'll meet DI Tyler outside the offices. Then, I want you to report to me. You'll then be told exactly what to do afterwards."

Casey nodded as the Gov continued to give out orders. She was taking this all in, her eyes becoming a little indistinct as she struggled to remember everything.

"OI, CASE, BACK TO WORK!"

Her current employers yelling broke the near silence lying across the only three people in the cafe. Casey gave him an evil glance, grateful that this would be her last day on the job.

Then, in walked two or three youths, perhaps a little older than her. She appeared to recognise them. Yet that recognition seemed tainted with a flurry of varying emotions; she wanted to greet them cordially but just couldn't bring herself to do it.

Gene observed them, looking them up and down; they looked like your regular Barker Street trouble makers. Cigarettes dangling between their fingers in a surly sort of way, in a vague attempt at becoming the next James Dean without the looks and even the laid back attitude.

One of them clocked her on the bum, spinning her round and holding her against his palms. "Alright, sweethear'?"

"Bloody pervert!" Gene growled, raising his right fist.

Sam glanced over at Casey before she retreated behind him. "Alright, leave it out, yeah?" he reasoned, standing between the two warriors nose to nose with each other.

With a sickening thud, Sam fell to the ground, dazed and possibly concussed.

To be continued...

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**Hope you enjoyed this chapter of 'Keeping it in the Family?' – let me know what you think! Thank you!**


	5. Chapter 5: She's a lady

**Hello and welcome back to another instalment of 'Keeping it in the Family?'. Thank you so much for the fantastic response to the last chapter, and to Iaveina, cid girl, talkingtothesky, Innogen, RixxiSpooks and losttimelady for taking the time to review and give any pointers! I really do appreciate feedback, even if it's just to say you liked this chapter or you'd like to see anything happen. I'm sorry that this chapter is a little shorter than the rest and that it's a day late being posted - I was trying to sort my new laptop out and it took me nearly forever last night.**

**Anyway, onto Chapter 5...**

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He came round slowly, blinking as if his eyes were pressed together by staples; he just wanted to keep them shut. He lay there, motionless, listening to the buzz of mixed voices around him. What he thought were cars screeching, tills dinging, whispers surrounding him. With one almightily blink, his eyes budged open, his vision fuzzy. He tried to figure out exactly where he was, what he was meant to be doing.

He stretched his limbs, lying flat on his back as his eye lids fell abruptly into each other, a car wreck.

_"Sam, are you ok?"_

"M-mum?" he stumbled over his speech, his eyes flickering faintly.

"No, try again." the woman tittered in disappointment. Maybe he was in a worse condition than she'd expected?

"An-nie?" he mumbled, his palms wavering over the cold tiles. He felt them slip and slide, off balance like the rest of him until they rebounded away from the grease beneath his finger tips.

"And again."

He could hear the dissatisfaction heavily cloud her voice now. His eyes traced the light, still half shut and still unrecognising his current whereabouts. As he tried to open them once again, he felt a hand slither across his chest, catching his stripped shirt buttons as chipped, painted nails collided with his lightly hairy chest.

He urged his legs to bend upwards, trying to drag himself up. His body just felt too uncomfortable but oddly relaxed to be bothered though.

A door slammed open and then back shut as his eyes snapped open, recognising the male voice that towered grimly over him.

_"Isn't 'e awake yet?"_

One eye broke away from his dizzy state, trying to become accustomed to the dull yellow light that fell across him. "Kinda," he mumbled quite incoherently.

Gene stamped his feet, his lips curling in anger. "Come on Gladys's, you shouldn't be knocked out after a little tap like that!"

The girl beside him gave her Father a disapproving look; she wasn't quite used to his unique brand of sarcasm. She narrowed her eyes venomously. "Come on, DI Tyler; let's get you up, hmmm?"

He felt her tender hands gently grasp his left arm, his own hand pressing against the ground. He managed to get upright, still sat precariously on the filthy floor. He opened his eyes to find that it was Casey beside him as he felt her hands stroke his back, petting him as if he were a stray puppy.

Sam leant forward, his head pressed against his now tarnished hands as he tried to remember just how he'd ended up on laying out on of the floor in one of Manchester's many greasy spoon cafes.

As his fingers massaged his now beaten face, he felt a warm, sticky liquid trail across them. Although the bleeding was light, it was still enough to make him feel a little woozy. That and the sudden impact of a right hand.

"What happened?" he quizzed, his voice muffled as he tried to recollect the events with hands stuffed in his face.

"A bastard knocked you out." DCI Hunt remembered, his hands on his hips, as he spied the window to see if the thugs would dare return.

His fingers shuffled across his cheeks, spreading them out to make small gaps whilst reacquainting himself with his surroundings.

"Let me take a look at your eye." Casey half enquired, half subtly told, twisting Sam's neck as harmlessly as she could. She traced the fresh scar with her smooth finger tips. "It's not too deep," she stated thoughtfully. "I don't think you'll need stitches, nowt like that. Just a plaster."

Her hands stalked his jaw line as she smiled politely yet timidly towards him. Her new boss mimicked her, not quite as cosily as she may have liked.

Gene sighed aggressively; he'd got no time for all of this niceness. "Come on, Dorothy, we've got crimes to be solving," he yelled, his rough hands hoisting his Inspector to his feet.

Sam teetered a little, Gene now holding him up with his forearms draped firmly against his chest and back. He took a brief glance at his officer's scarred face, snarling openly. "Huh, I've seen me missus do worse than that wiv 'er rolling pin! Come on, beer o'clock, Tyler. See _you_ tomorrow morning, bright and early_ WPC Carlisle_."

Sam gave Casey a hazy wave as Gene supported him back to the Cortina. The Inspector leant against the metal of the motor, cooling his now aching head.

The Gov clasped his hands together, resting them on the roof. "You know, you didn't do too badly considering it's your first day back."

Sam braved brightness of the dipping sun and peered over to his Chief. "Really?"

"Yeah - you got a pain in the arse and a black eye!" he remarked, clambering back inside the car.

Sam snorted, recognising the pain in the arse Gene was talking about. "I guess she's keeping it in the family, then?"

The journey to the Railway Arms was barely five minutes long, a certain relief for them both. Gene was desperate to get another malt down him with Sam needing something to shift his stiffly aching head into a much warmer state of headache; a hangover.

They walked in, shoulder to shoulder, recognising the rest of the team already gathered at the bar, flicking through a newspaper. In all truth, there hadn't been that much going on in the town recently; after the catching of Mike Smith and Frank Morgan, there wasn't too much that any of the town's regular criminals would dare to do. They knew the Police Force was on red hot alert.

Slamming his fists down against the wooden bar, Nelson and the rest of Manchester's A Division turned to spy both superior officers.

"Right Nelson, two doubles please one for meself and me DI, 'ere who's in cloud cuckoo land."

Annie, up and till that point, hadn't noticed Sam's injury; she was sat on the opposite side to his bruise, flirtatiously sipping her drink; she preferred it when he was the one to come over to her. It was just so much sweeter than her bounding over to him.

"Sam!" she cried, rushing over after hearing the Gov's words. "Are you ok? What 'appened?"

"Some bastard clocked 'im in the face when he was trying to be the Good Samaritan." Gene interjected, taking a vast gulp of his Whisky.

Annie cupped Sam's face between her hands, massaging the area around the slightly swallow skin. He flinched every time she approached the graze, prompting her to ask the barman for a bag of ice.

"Come on," she urged, patting a stool at the far end of the bar for him to perch on. The other men in attendance rolled their eyes, some a little jealous not to be receiving the same kind of affection from such a naturally pretty lady.

Nelson handed DC Cartwright the small clear bag with as much ice as it could handle. She jogged it from left to right, trying to even the contents out before pressing it firmly but as painlessly as possible against her boyfriend's face. She let him continue to take short but regular sips of his drink, hoping the alcohol would ease some of the pain in his face.

DS Carling decided to inspect Annie's assets as she tended to the sick. He leered excessively at her arse, a little disappointed when Gene turned to talk to the plonk.

"Nice work, love. Keep it up!"

Sam flinched a little, not really embracing the attention given to him. "I'm fine, honestly," He declared, holding his hands up as a sign for Annie to stop her fussing.

"Rubbish!" she retorted, not aggressively just with concern. "Who knows what it could 'ave done to your brain if 'e punched 'ard enough to knock you out?"

"Not a lot." Ray twitched his bushy eyebrows, taking a quick drag on his fag.

Annie offered DS Carling a stern glare, returning her attention back to Sam. "Are you sure?"

"Positive." he confirmed, sighing in slight exasperation; his first day back had taken more energy from him than he could have imagined.

"Yeah well, could 'ave been worse," Gene reckoned, mulling of his words. "He could 'ave kicked the crap out of our new recruit. Now that _would_ have been a tragedy, huh?"

The unsuspecting coppers raised an eyebrow. Sam didn't but he did dislike the Gov's directly harsh sarcasm towards his own flesh and blood. No matter what had happened before with him and her Mum, Sam just didn't feel comfortable with the way Gene chose to talk about her.

"What, is someone joining us?" DC Cartwright asked, slightly taken aback.

Gene nodded. "Yep. Starting tomorrow."

"It 'ad better be a bird." DC Skelton chirped.

Ray's eyes became largely animated. "Yeah! One with 'uge tits and a good arse!"

Sam could see Gene seethe, the DCI fearing this kind of thing would happen. His face turning redder, Gene slammed his tumbler down on the bar, Nelson cautiously obliging him with another double.

"Yes, our new colleague is a lady." DI Tyler confirmed, taking the bag of ice from Annie.

"Oh yes!" Chris and Ray cheered simultaneously, high fiving. Their grins were huge, lighting up the room as if they were Aurora Borealis!

"That doesn't mean you can go about wanting to get yer spade in 'er bucket as if it was sex on the beach!" Gene told firmly. He could feel himself ready to explode.

_'Must remain cool.'_ he urged himself, amicably pinching a cigarette from Ray's packet.

"Ease up, ay Gov?" Carling spoke, slightly taken back by Hunts sudden outburst.

"Yeah, _Gene_." Sam agreed, his eyes stern as they locked with the Govs.

The Governor didn't directly respond. Instead, he became fascinated with his cigarette, admiring the flame flicker between drags.

It was then and there that Sam released how much Gene dreaded anyone knowing about Casey being his love child. Whilst it was perhaps unclear as to whether he truly loved her or not, it was clear that he wanted to protect her as if she was going to be targeted by a bunch of muggers at the station.

Yet, Sam also knew that Gene had to keep his anger in check; Sam was sworn to secrecy so it was only right that Gene kept it just as quiet. Tyler knew it would be difficult for him to ignore some of the looks Casey was bound to get from some of their co-workers. She was an obviously attractive young woman, vulnerable because she did appear a lot older than she was.

Deciding that he'd had enough of staring at Gene's solemnly hard face, Sam slung back the remainder of his drink, standing a little unsteady on his feet.

"I'm heading home." he announced, lacing a gentle yet secure arm against his girlfriends cuddly body.

"What, already?" she questioned, gazing lovingly into his eyes.

"Come on Gladys, even you can 'ack it longer than 'alf eight!"

"No. I've got a busy day tomorrow." Sam snidely replied, reminding Gene of their new colleague.

With the Govs low growling swarming in his ear, Sam - as well as Annie - bid fair well to the rest of the pub.

Yet, in spite of the short but pleasurable journey home, complete with hand holding and a couple of simply calm kisses, Sam was fully unaware that his evening was about to take a drastic turn for the worse...

To be continued...

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**Thank you for reading - please review!**


	6. Chapter 6: Two feet tall

Hello once again lovelies! Another huge thank you goes to talkingtothesky, Iaveina, cid girl and Innogen for reviewing my last chapter! I hope you all enjoy this – Sam's continuing night of hell! MWHAHAHA!

Enjoy!

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He pulled the now sweaty shirt away from his slender body, grateful that the monstrosity of a day was finally over. Despite the morning starting off particularly well, Sam Tyler's day rapidly deteriorated. From bizarre revelations of love children, to getting knocked over by a heinous right fist, this had hardly been the day he'd longed for to get back into the swing of 1973's Manchester.

Although he wasn't completely tired, Sam knew that if he didn't go to bed now and try and get a good nights kip that he'd soon start pondering the days events over and over again in his mind like a stuck record. To be frank, he couldn't be bothered to do that; he knew that it was about time he at least _attempted_ to separate himself from work, even if sleep was the only way to do so.

Tearing his shoes away from his clammy feet, his face creasing at the rather musty smell, he soon diverted his attentions back to Annie. She had been so sweet to him, bringing him back to the flat, making sure he made it safely back inside without so much as a fly touching him.

_"Are you sure you'll be ok?"_

_She touched his face affectionately. His heart raced; he had missed her touch._

_"Yeah, I'm sure. Thank you."_

_His speech was calm, hiding his pleasure of her presence. How he loved her so._

_"You don't want me to stay the night, do you?"_

_He gulped slightly. He didn't want to offend her. She was the best thing that's happened to him in a long time, possibly ever._

_"I promise tomorrow night, we'll spend it together. I'm just a bit knackered now, that's all."_

_She smiled sympathetically, as if she understood. Her fingers pressed lightly against his barely parted lips, urging him to just be quiet. To enjoy the moment. Tempting him to enjoy her._

_"I understand."_

_Their bodies became synchronised, understanding the other even just through instinct alone, possibly through memories from before, of being together day after day. Except, this time, they could really appreciate the other without prying eyes obtruding their pleasure. _

_She moved in for the kill, her face millimetres from his. He closed his hazel eyes. He was going to enjoy the next few minutes._

_He puckered up, taking in one large breath, anticipating the warmth of her delicate kisses._

_He stood there, waiting. Opening his eyes carefully (in case it was he about to ruin the moment), her saw her stood there, stifling a laugh, her rounded face turning pinker by the second, her cornflower blue eyes sparkling under the dim lights like a secluded Christmas tree._

_His parted lips became shocked, pouting like their Govs. Oh how he'd laugh too if he could have seen Gladys looking like that!_

_He folded his arms, mocking his displeasure. As he looked down, she grabbed his face, stealing a kiss from him. They stared at each other, just appreciating one another. His obvious love for her was never in doubt, his eagerness for them to be together never in question. Her hard to get playfulness was enticing yet marginally maddening._

_But he could never be mad at her. She was his light through all consuming darkness of past - or future - craziness._

_"Goodnight." she smirked sassily, her intention only ever good no matter how bizarre it may seem._

He beamed, tumbling into the bathroom and inspecting his battle scars in the fractured mirror, reminding himself (yet again) to get a more attractive looking medicine cabinet.

Although his 'childhood' boasted memories of innocence of the 70's, nothing of pure happiness but passages of contentment before his Father's radical disappearance, he could never remember a time being attacked for trying to calm a situation down in his life. Never. Well, then he thought back to his drunken days at Uni when everyone was away getting pissed out of their minds, throwing up in their dormitories before smoking a couple of spliffs, listening to some classic rock before proclaiming that new artists were all a bunch of shite who deserved being hung up by their testicles. But when you were off your head, it was more than acceptable to succumb to semi-violent rages; the drugs made you so at ease with everyone, it just didn't matter that one minute you'd beaten the snot out of them to the next hugging and crying into their shaking arms. No one gave a toss.

But it was the good days before the real senseless violence of the late 20th Century really took hold; before people were doing real damage to people, rather than drunken scuffles in the middle of the street. Real, blood thirsty violence destined to harm all it came in contact with.

That was part of the reason Sam had initially wanted to be a copper; he just wanted to help and protect people. Even when he'd been clocked in the head by a common moron, he still didn't question his commitment to the job. In fact, it made his passion even stronger, his duties even firmer in his mind. He just wanted to make sure people were safe, no matter where they lived or who they were.

He dragged a pair of freshly washed pyjamas from his newly fitted wardrobe, smiling with pride at the memory of the hour it took for him to assemble it. The soft lavender whiff brought a new, welcoming aroma into the room, at least masking the whiff of stale cigarettes and grease!

Deciding to take a quite steamy, hot shower Sam fell into a deeper sense of relaxation, his headache wearing off as the warm water lapped over him tranquilly. He felt much better now, humming to himself as he touched his less tender ribs with his fluffy blue towel, glad that the Gov's fists hadn't done anymore damage to him since their eventful day in CID many weeks before.

Rubbing any droplets of water from his off brown locks, Sam tugged his pyjamas on, feeling himself slipping into a greater pool of sleep even whilst standing up. Hovering over his bed for a few moments, he felt straight onto the covers, his breathing becoming softer as his eyes shut clumsily together.

_"La la la, la la la, are you awake, Sammy?"_

_He shot up, his body a bullet. His cold, icy sweat sizzled against his piping hot body. "Wha-what do you want? I thought this was all over?"_

_"What's all over, Sammy? You didn't think I was going to leave someone as handsome as you alone, did you?"_

_"Piss off!" he hissed, trying to be brave, trying to annoy her, offender her, make her leave, make sure she never, ever wanted to come back._

_"Oh no Sammy, have you forgotten your manners?"_

_Her small titters turned to lion's roars, her clown thrusted before her. He cowered. Oh God, how he'd told himself not to let her win._

_"You like Casey, don't you?"_

_Her sweet, child like, sing song voice crashed into him like an exploding train._

_His eyes sparked. "How do you know ab-about..."_

_She giggled almost mechanically at his awkward nervousness. "I know everything, Sammy. You don't need to avoid telling me anything. Your secrets are always safe with me."_

_"Stay away from her, don't you dare hurt her!"_

_"Don't worry Sammy, I would never hurt any of your friends. I know you only like her as a human being but you can't deny she's pretty..."_

_"Look, just leave - me - alone!"_

_He stood his ground, his heart thudding against his chest._

_"You don't agree with her being in CID, do you Sam? She might interrupt some of your time with Gene!"_

_"That's enough! END!"_

_His eyes slammed shut, his body wracked with worry. She was still there, breathing on him, the stench of rotting candy and Bubble Matey bathing liquid becoming unbearable. She was closer than she'd ever been before. More menacing than she'd ever been before. Her voice, higher, louder than before, harder with severe consequences soon to follow. He just tell._

_"Is she old enough to be there Sam? Is she qualified to be there, Sam? Is it safe enough for her to be the-"_

His eyes broke away from the torture, hearing the beeping of his alarm clock excessively loud in his ear. He grunted, feeling weak as he sat up in bed, his sheets cocooned around his body, stumping his best efforts to breath, stopping him from fully waking from his deranged state of dreaming.

"Fuck." he mumbled, his perspiring frame making it even harder to break away from the shell of the bed. His head in his hands, he wanted to curl up and cry. Never had the Test Card Girl got so...so close or so personal.

He'd been fortunate enough not to have a visit from the blonde bitch since the last case with Mike Smith and Frank Morgan. He'd thought that then he'd finally gotten rid of her, that he would have to bare witness to her smug smile, her cold eyes or her bloody rotten clown ever again.

Perhaps - for once in his life - Sam Tyler could truly admit that he was wrong. _Very_ wrong.

Feeling that he couldn't stand being in the apartment for any longer than absolutely necessary, Sam had a shower in seconds flat, pulled on the first clothes to fall out of his cupboard and grabbed an apple, emerging into the rising sun and paced his way towards Manchester's A Division at the speed of light.

To him, the dingy apartment had never felt eerier; he had never felt more out of place there. It had never felt less like a home to him until then. The moment the Test Card Girl finally made him feel two feet tall.

Sam just couldn't begin to explain why she'd come back. He should have known that the few weeks of peace he had away would come at a dear price. He should have bloody well guess that nothing would ever be perfect. No matter whether he was in 2006 or 1973.

Yet, taking another bite from the Granny Smith, he realised that Blondie had actually been accurately, painfully correct; was Casey really old enough to be working somewhere like a cop station? Wouldn't she need things like real, proper qualifications before the Gov should even consider her for the job, let alone give her it? Was he really going to protect her from all of the thugs and muggers on the streets of Manchester?

Suddenly, Sam's dazed but inquisitive nature soon turned to boiling anger. How Gene even do it without his opinion? Sure, he was his superior officer; he'd accepted that a long time ago. Yet, they'd been making decisions as a joint unit for some time too.

He began to walk faster, feeling a greater urge to get to the station before anyone else did. He needed to talk to the Gov, let him know exactly how he felt about the whole debacle.

He could feel himself, breathing faster, heavier, getting more and more worked up about the whole rotten thing.

In his mind, something needed to be done; before someone ended up getting hurt.

To be continued...

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Thank you for reading - please review and let me know what you think! 


	7. Chapter 7: First day on the job

Hey! Sorry for the delay in this chapter! Thank you to Rixxispooks, talkingtothesky, Iaveina and losttimelady for reviewing chapter 6! This instalment is a lot longer so I hope you all enjoy it!

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Stomping over stones and various pieces of rubbish, Sam Tyler grimaced, realising that his concerns were well justified. Not over reactive or silly; they were very real. He expected his DCI to take his complaints seriously, as the second in command, and to appreciate his words of wisdom.

And - even if Gene was in his usual grumpy, 'shut up you ponce, Tyler' type mood - he was going to fight tooth and nail with him. As per bloody usual.

Beginning to feel a real sense of indignation, Sam began to walk faster, feeling his nostrils flair, his breathing deepen as he made his way to the monstrosity of a building, the grey concrete adding to his notion of annoyed misery.

He snarled in the Gov's general direction, thinking of him already sat there in his office, sprawled out, drinking Whisky as if it was going out of style and puffing on so many fags, anyone would have thought his name was Stephen Warren!

Plodding up the stairs, his eyes narrow, poisonous, his mind pacing at a thousand miles a second, he slammed open the doors, the sound of glass rattling against the flimsy wooden frames only helping to make his mind more unsettled, making his hands more shaky; he desperately wanted to throttle the Gov right now. Sure, Gene was about four or five inches taller than him, much stockier (or lardy as Sam usually put it) and with more brute, force and ignorance than Man United and City fans put together, it was also clear that his DI could pack one hell of a punch when he put his mind to it.

Not usually agreeing with such notions, he couldn't help but think that desperate times called for desperate measures.

Seeing the still figure of his Governor, sat comfortably in his recliner, already nursing a tumbler of Whisky (as predicted) and a cigarette in his other hand (also as predicted), Sam seethed even more. He didn't even look like he even cared about young Casey coming into his place of work. He didn't even seem to mind that she'd bare witness to the type of man her Father really was; a loud mouth, cursing thug with a terrible attitude problem and a horrendous alcohol problem.

The door swung abruptly open, crashing into the plastic glass windows. Gene, flinching only slightly, sat still with his legs cross on the desk, his off white loafers tarnishing some of the formerly crisp papers underneath.

"Morning Gladys, never 'eard of knocking?"

His sarcasm did nothing for Sam other than piss him off even more. His lips twisted, his nose turned upwards. "Shut up!"

Gene wasn't even taken aback by DI Tyler's aggressiveness. He removed his legs from the table, taking another drink of Whisky. "It wouldn't 'ave killed ya to say a nice 'ello would it?"

Sam snorted. "Ok, hello - _Daddy_."

Gene took in a sharp breath, slamming his tumbler down. "Ok, Tyler, what's crawled up your arse and bitten your jacksey?"

"**You!**" he spat, pointing nastily. Gene stood up; he wanted to be in the best position to knock the little fucker out. "Do you have any idea what kind of danger you're putting _your_ daughter in by letting her gallivant around with us?!"

Gene sniffed, throwing the cigarette butt on the floor, diminishing any last spark. His pockets held his fists, tightly clenched; the fabric was the only thing stopping Tyler from getting knocked out for the second day running.

"Of course I do, Tyler. I'm not a complete moron!"

"Some days I truly doubt that." Sam sniped, his voice as seemingly confident as when he entered the room. He couldn't find the courtesy to keep his remarks to himself.

Gene's eyes turned colder, stepping forward to address Sam more thoroughly. More like to get closer to Sam to shut the bastard up quicker. "Look, Dorothy. I don't want 'er 'ere either..."

"Then why is she?!" he cried, shocked at his own desperate pleas.

"Because..."

"No, I'll tell you why you _have_ to have her here," Sam began, his face turning more crimson by the second. "Coz you daren't let her spill your big 'secret'. Heaven forbid anyone realises that Casey's your illegitimate child! You're a disgrace!"

Sam regretted his last few words; it was the anger from seeing the Test Card Girl and a lack of sleep finally getting to him. After a fortnight of pretty much uninterrupted nights, he wasn't quite use to the infringement of his peace.

"I'm sorry." he spoke, his voice muffled with his own shock.

To his surprise, Gene's expression didn't budge. His hands clenched even tighter in his pockets that was true. But what scared the Governor the most was that his DI's words were a hundred and ten percent accurate. For more than the five-millionth time in his life, Sam Tyler had been painfully truthful. This time though, it cut too deeply through the nerve.

It didn't seem that the Gov was too bothered about accepting his Inspectors apology, no matter how sincere it had seemed to be. "I know you have your reasons, Gov," Sam began, wiping a hand across his stubbly chin. "But you need to remember that she _is _in danger - she has no training, no experience. She needs qualifications - you can't just let her in like this."

"Oh shut up, Dorothy!" Gene ordered, slashing through the almost inane ramblings. "I _do _know this so stop treating me like a bloody idiot!"

"Then _why _don't you do something about it?" Sam's voice was now calmer, a lot less menacing but with an air of exasperation as a not so fond accompaniment.

"You know bloody well why." Gene snarled.

Sam decided to give in for once in his life; there was no point in keep banging your head against a brick wall unless you were in desperate need of a concussion. He glanced up at the clock. "I'd better go collect our new recruit." he decided, leaving the Governor to sulk at his own demise.

Walking to the outside of the concrete block, Sam felt a little nervous as he made his way down the corridors and steps; it had felt like decades ago (or in the future) since he'd trained anyone. It was a very precarious position; he had a duty to turn Casey into a fine Police Woman, to help her prove to obvious doubters that she was worth more than they'd ever felt. But - at the same time - it was a vulnerable, young, inexperienced, world weary girl who he was to be training.

Not to mention the fact she was the Gene Genie's daughter...

With his hands in his trouser pockets, he saw the young girl in question perched resignedly on the edge of the brick wall, her arms clutched around a note book that hung to her chest. She was staring at her shoes, hoping that the black, as discrete as possible kitten heels were shiny enough for the Gov's liking. Her sandy hair was tied into a half pony tail, her fringe loosely hung behind her left ear. She pushed her locks back as they fell into her face, her eyes still transfixed to the ground as she continued to wait for her new boss, gingerly examining her watch.

DI Tyler was pretty impressed with the way she presented herself; her pastel yellow, floral shirt wasn't too garish and the matching grey bootleg trouser and waistcoat combination was perfectly professional without being flirtatious but with a huge dollop of cheek to it; exactly how he'd expected her to turn up looking like.

Sam cleared his throat a little, starling Casey a little. Her hand over her heart, she laughed at her own day dreaming state.

"Sorry, I didn't mean..."

"Its ok!" she stood, swinging her bag to her knees. "I was in a little world of my own."

"You'd better be fully alert by the time we get inside though."

"Don't worry, I'm focused now."

They exchanged small, cautious smiles before making their way into CID, Sam feeling a little awkward. Needless to say, he hadn't hung out with many sixteen year old girls for quite a few years.

"So, uh, have you been in the offices before?"

"No, uh, I haven't," Casey blushed a little. "My class went on a school trip there once. Thought it would be a good idea to pull a sickie that day..."

"Oh," Sam nodded, feeling slightly guilty for asking. He quickly moved on, keeping the conversation strictly work related, of course. "How long have you wanted to be a copper for?"

He pulled the door open for her, watching her walk through hastily, trying not to appear surprised that a gentleman opened a door for her. "I guess forever. Well, I say that - I've always wanted a job of authority because I guess I never felt like I've had any," she tittered uneasily, attempting to disguise her obvious discomfort at the conversation. "So it seemed like a natural choice, especially since I already had connections."

They smirked at her wryness; she had certainly taken a leaf from the Women's Movement book!

"Ok, just as a warning - if the Gov yells or swears at you, it's perfectly natural so don't take it personally..."

"Don't worry, I've already sussed him out from our encounters yesterday. It's him who had better be watching out."

Sam's eyes widened, thinking that perhaps young Casey would soon live to regret her borderline naive confidence.

"I think he wants you to report to his office as soon as we get in...WPC Carlisle."

She nodded, blinking away any last shred of anxiety that was troubling her; she'd all ready made herself look like a blubbering baby in front of everyone yesterday, when she ran out of the offices crying. She was determined not to make the same mistake twice in twenty-four hours.

Leading the young woman to the Governors office, Sam couldn't help but feel nervous for her. Vague memories crept back to the front of his mind of his first day in Manchester CID. True, it wasn't likely that she was from the future (or at least under the _impression_ that she was). But he just hoped that the Detective Chief Inspector would take it a little easier on her, considering everything.

He pressed his hands against the grimy, smoky glass, deciding to take the lead this time, to introduce her properly.

Gene was staring into thin air, taking great interest into the perfectly elliptical smoke rings coming from his mouth.

Sam realised that it wouldn't be a happy reunion, by all accounts. "Er, Gov, WPC Carlisle is here..."

"Mornin'." he replied, flatly, not even looking over to her.

"Good morning." she replied, holding her bag closer to her chest and standing taller, as if she was in the Army trying to impress a growling officer. Sam had to admit he was impressed by her tenacity and politefullness, even with someone as utterly awkward as Gene Hunt.

Gene grunted in response, throwing his cigarette to the ground.

Sam gulped; this was certainly going to be less than easy. "What shall I assign our new officer to do?"

Swaying his head over to him, Gene guffawed, shaking his head. "Ya know Tyler, for someone who's meant to be so bleedin' intelligent, you can be bloody forgetful sometimes!"

Sam shrugged, seeing Casey tense a little. "Yeah, perhaps I am."

"I told you that you are in charge of WPC Carlisle, DI Tyler. That means that you find the little plonk summats to do."

Casey became a little more rigid; she'd never faced that kind of direct sexism before. As much as she wanted to go over to him and give him a piece of her mind, she decided against it; she knew it wasn't worth getting kicked out of the force before the first morning on duty for!

The Inspector glanced over to her, biting his lip, obviously deep in thought. "Ok, I'll perhaps take you to your desk, show you where everything is?"

Gene choked on his own sarcasm. "This is the Police Force, Dorothy, not some Girl Guides outing! She can work it out as she goes along, can't you?"

Gene's eyes, cold and firm, stared directly into his daughters. For the first time, he actually took notice of her. She jerked back, almost frightened of what his stare could lead to.

"Ok, I'll show you to your desk then." Sam decided his voice dry and mocking towards his Gov. He smiled meekly towards Casey, opening the door for her. He glanced back at Gene, already preoccupied in his morning Whisky to really give a damn.

Pushing her blonde locks away from her face, Casey bowed her head, feeling the multiple stares from CID on her. Sam noticed her flushing, going back to his original fears of her attention.

"Ok, so, you'll be sitting here. DC Cartwright sits behind you and my desk is here in front of you..."

He stopped, realising how patronising he must be sounding. Casey's face was pink, trying to ignore any hint of an over bearing parent tone in his voice. Yet, she wasn't entirely sure what that sounded like anyway.

As he was about to give her the basic rundown of who everyone else was, two lurchers made themselves known, both with their lips glued to a cigarette, reeking of last nights booze and stale fags.

"Is this our new 'colleague', DI Tyler?" Carling quizzed, his lips upturning in satisfaction.

"Yes, this is WPC Carlisle." Sam nodded, hoping that Ray was going to keep his pervy mouth shut.

DS Carling could tell just how young she was, questioning his own racing mind and bulge against his fly.

Chris - on the other hand - swallowed and held his hand out, hoping that the pretty lady would take it. "Nice to meet you," he greeted, an unsure smile wavering on his lips.

Casey accepted his hand shake, a playful grin making her eyes less weary, more peaceful.

"If you don't mind me askin' love, just 'ow old are you?"

"Ray, that's not the kind of question you ask a young bi-, I mean, lady."

Sam smirked at Chris' sudden correction, finding it all rather cute. However, there wasn't anything cute about the grizzly bear sauntering from his office, struggling to pull his jacket over his broad shoulders, juggling a newly lit cigarette between his fingers.

"Oi, you dozy lot, shout out to Skerbeck school. Attempted burglary last night, poncy teachers thought it would only be a good idea to call the coppers now."

Everyone glanced at Casey, her peachy lips agape, her eyes wide with horror. "That's my old school." she murmured, her voice smaller than a homeless man's dinner.

"C'mon you tarts, get moving!" Gene cried, doing his best to spur his team on in his own unique way.

To be continued...


	8. Chapter 8: Fancy meeting you here?

Hey. Thank you for my lone reviewer, losttimelady, for your opinions on the last chapter. Sorry I couldn't post before today but I've been at Uni Open Days and all sorts. If there is anything you are unhappy with in this story, let me know.

Enjoy!

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Eventually encouraging themselves to dash downstairs, the members of CID present nearly crashed directly into poor DC Cartwright who had just came back from fetching the shopping at the Gov's request; a pint of milk, another bottle of Whisky, three packet of Marlboros (telling her that all three packets would be required because of the day he was bound to have) and a tin of 'oops.

She squinted at the four men bounding towards her, an unsure looking woman close behind them.

Gesticulating over to the girl, Annie turned to Gene, his face hard with focus. "Sir, is this our new..."

"Never mind all that bollocks, you can get acquainted in the Cortina! Ray, Chris you take the other car. I don't want Dorothy 'ere nearly shitting 'imself coz we've got too many people in this motor!"

Sam sighed heavily. "We'd be breaking the law rather than upholding it!"

"You'd better get used to 'im talking this kind of shit regularly, luv." Gene stated, in a mere attempt at keeping up appearances with his unacknowledged daughter.

"Will do." she replied, smiling through gritted teeth as Chris opened the back door for her to get in. She nodded, blushing at his gentleness.

Gene groaned. "I told you not to prat about you nonce! Go play Romantic-Shakespeare-arse-licker to Ray!"

Doing as he was told, DC Skelton's head sunk a little, sulking his way over to the passenger seat of the titchy blue car.

Hearing the motor rev up, Sam held on for dear life, advising Casey to do exactly the same thing.

Annie smiled over to the new recruit, not quite sure what to say. In her mind, she looked awfully young (_too young_) to be doing this job; it was full of dangers, some of which a woman of her age did not know how to contend with, without the battles of puberty and ever changing hormones. None the less, she was more than prepared to be helpful to her, feeling she'd already been allocated the job of glorified babysitter anyway.

Screeching round the corner of the road, Gene examined Casey's face in the wind mirror; she looked a mixture of nervous and a little angry, still trying to maintain confidence and professionalism deep within the whirlwind of emotions.

"What's the matter, kid?"

Gene's voice, harsh and unyielding, woke Casey from her day dreaming. She glanced up at him, blinking as if he'd asked what the meaning of life is.

"Nothing."

Gene snorted. "Huh, just the kind of answer I'd expect from a teenager."

Sam's eyes narrowed. "I take it you have experience in them matters then?"

Gene's eyes followed the trend of Tyler's, his lip snarling as he chose to ignore his Inspectors moody comment.

Annie pushed her hair behind her ears, holding onto the bag of shopping to make sure that the Whisky didn't come in contact with the floor; the rate the Gov was driving, it was a wonder that they were still in their seats!

Pulling up on the pavement, Casey waited until all of the other officers began to emerge from the car before joining them. Really, she was keen to show eagerness but not so keen on the idea of being viewed as over zealous. She could only imagine the kind of abuse she would get for that.

Plumping up his chest and peering at the school (kids hanging out of the window as if they were trying to cause themselves damage, teachers yelling at them until they developed laryngitis) Gene was glad that he was no longer a student.

"I can see why you wanted to get out," he snorted, directing his voice over to WPC Carlisle.

"Yeah, it's hardly what you'd call appealing is it?" Sam interjected, thinking back to his school days, how he tried to be the perfect academic but sometimes let his peer's taunts overshadow him.

"It's a real dump inside," she sighed, flipping her hair over her shoulder.

Seeing DC Skelton park fairly neatly behind the Governor's car (but not too neatly to be regarded as fussy or a nonce), him and DS Carling parked up, making their way over to the foursome.

"This takes me back," Chris mused aloud "I 'aven't missed it like."

"You used to come here, then?" Casey questioned, spinning to see the brunette a little better.

Chris gulped, shocked that someone had paid attention to him. "Yeah. I didn't exactly enjoy me school days. Didn't really get on with the kids that well."

"Neither did I." she frowned, following her superior officers inside the bleak, multi-storey building.

The Gov waltzed over to the front desk, resting his arm against it as if he was sat in the Railway Arms, expecting another pint from Nelson. "Alright, luv? I'm DCI Hunt, 'ere to sort out some sort of burglary from last night?"

The girl at the desk, with her thick glasses un-cleaned and biscuit crumbs spilt down her ill fitting blue top, gazed up at him. "Oh yeah, did someone call for you then?"

Gene scowled. "Yes, about ten or so minutes ago!"

"Oh yeah, that was me!" she tittered, Gene rolling his eyes in exasperation. "I'll get our headmaster for you."

As she rose from her seat, remembering to take her cup of coffee with her when she was over half way across the other side of the room, the Chief Inspector shook his head at the plain incompetence of some people.

"Gov, what's meant to 'ave 'appened?" Annie quizzed, trying to pick up for lost time.

"Apparently, sometime last night, a bunch of youth bastards were 'anging around 'ere. Then, there's meant to be all broken glass or sommats so they called us in."

"Who saw that it was a bunch of youths?" DI Tyler asked, avoiding Gene's terminology.

"Some poor soul who lives across the road saw some of 'em running backwards and forwards all night."

"Was he up all night then?" Casey muttered, looking up and regretting her rather sarcastic notion. "Sorry, I just thought that seemed a bit silly, that's all..."

"No, it's a good question, Carlisle, one that I intend on working out once this slow fucker gets their sorry arse over 'ere!" he yelled, slamming his fist against the desk; he had no time for waiting around all day like some sort of fairy.

After a further five minutes, the ambling woman from the office returned, puzzled for a brief second as to who she was dealing with. Remembering what she was meant to be saying, she turned to the superior officers, pushing her glasses against her brow. "I'm sorry, he said he'll be about ten minutes, he's on the phone to a parent. He told me that I could take you to the crime scene, was it?" she murmured to herself, rubbing her chin and making her way - slowly - over to them. "Oh yes, I'll take you over to the crime scene and he'll hopefully be along soon."

"Terrific," Gene growled, already fed up with her sluggishness.

"If you'd like to come this way." she said, sauntering in front as Sam grabbed his notebook from his back pocket, ready if anything unusual was set to occur.

On their way towards the field and back of the school, all members of Manchester's A Division couldn't help but notice the unruly children and slack teachers. Cursing flowed the corridors as they walked on by, a paper aeroplane hitting the receptionist right in the head but she didn't even flinch. Sam guessed that she was desensitised to it all, choosing to ignore rather than directly doing so.

Turning another corner, Casey gulped, memories young and old coming back to her; she detested this place, absolutely hated it. It made her grateful that she was away from the place, that she never had to spend a full day here never, ever again.

"Here we are," the office lady spoke, seemingly out of breath from their around the school trek. "Here is where the little scallywags must have broken in by."

Near the school pitch, behind which were a bunch of conifers and bungalows, was a broken window.

"They must have broken in by using this bust chair," DC Cartwright observed "Does this belong to any of the rooms?"

The receptionist thought about it briefly, recollecting some rather crucial information. "Underneath all of the chairs are where they belonged to, written in permanent black marker pen."

Taking a clean tissue from her handbag, Annie grabbed one of the chairs legs, flipping it over. "Bio. L5."

"Does that mean anything to either of you?" Hunt questioned, glancing at Casey and Chris.

Carlisle nodded confidently. "Yeah it's Biology, laboratory 5."

"Ok, Carling, Skelton and Cartwright, you stay 'ere and scan for clues. Me, Dorothy and the new Nancy Drew will go to Biology and dissect the place apart."

Feeling rather useless - and more than a little out of place - the lady from the office swung her arms together. "Ok, sir, what should I do."

"You wait 'ere until the 'eadmaster finally finishes gabbling on and tell 'im to come find us," Gene ordered, the trio wondering off to a department which Casey was quite fond of actually.

She was one of the 'science geeks' as some of the boys had once chosen to put it. She'd never seen herself like that though; somehow she just kind of understood it and was a near straight A student in the subject. She didn't take the exam though, through her own personal reasons, something she deeply regretted.

Wasting little time in leading the Gov and DI Tyler around the school, Casey stopped dead in her tracks once arriving at the class room. She gasped, standing still and rigidly against the wall.

"Great," she sighed, feeling a mixture of disgust, awkwardness and shyness creeping over her and strangling her professionalism.

"What's up?" Sam quizzed, turning to face the cowering young woman. Although she was trying to look brave, trying to keep her cool, there was still doubt plastered all across her face like nettle rash.

"N-nothing." she stammered, hopping her grown up like facade would be able to be maintained, at least for a little while longer.

"Are you sure?"

She nodded reluctantly yet sharply, feeling helpless as Gene crashed through the door into biology, disrupting the class' madness for at least a brief moment in time.

The teacher, balding with what little hair he had left as grey as a ghost, turned to look at Gene, simply shrugging his appearance.

"Which one is it you want?" he asked rather slovenly, as if it was an everyday occurrence, a burly copper charging in your door.

"No, we don't want any of the charming little bastards yet." Gene replied, stifling a laugh at his own cynicism.

"No, sir, we're here about the break in last night." Sam interjected, feeling that his phrasing might be more valuable in such a matter as he presented his Inspectors badge.

Casey hung around outside. 'Please say that I don't _have_ to go in there.' she pleaded, her thoughts locked within her mind. She couldn't bare it, not with all of those familiar yet vulgar faces surrounding her.

Pressing herself against the wall even more so, she tried to blank out all sense of hearing, trying to ignore them talking to that old dog, Mr. Bourne. If boring ever needed personifying, he was the man to do it.

Sam, noticing the missed presence of his trainee by his side frowned, wondering back into the corridor, a question marking his face. "What's the matter?"

Gathering her thoughts quickly, Casey stood taller, her shoulders turned inwards. "N-nothing. I'm fine."

"Ok, well we're going to start looking for any clues in here," Sam hinted, holding his arm out as a sign for her to enter the room first.

Folding her body inwards, trying to defend herself as best she could, Casey crept into the Biology room, her mouth quivering; she felt eyes upon her, scorching her but still sending a shiver down her spine.

The gossip subsided momentarily although it felt like it lasted thousands of years; everyone stopped what they were doing, gawping at a shirking Casey, happily letting her hair flop across her face.

"OI CASEY, GET YOUR TIT'S OUT!" one of the lads crassly shouted, his face elated as he usually got away with that kind of chauvinism.

Well, at least not today.

The Governor, not liking the place from his initial impression, snarled, his nostrils flaring. He liked the lads turn of phrase even less. He waltzed over to him, chest heaving, macho and authoritative.

"Think again if you think you can talk to one of me officer's like that," he sneered, laying a hefty slap across the spotty lad's ear hole, cackling at his cruelty as the pupil fell to the ground, his mouth wide with shock.

"You're gonna fucking pay for that!"

"Oh, is that right?" Gene scoffed, kicking the youngster in the gut. Casey cowered, un-expecting this random act of disgraceful violence.

"That's enough, Gov!" Sam cried, pulling him back. "Leave him!"

Gene, spittle landing like bombs over the teenagers body, began to calm down, his anger subsiding just a little when the twat didn't bother to fight back.

Before things could get anymore out of hand than already possible, another familiar face came back into Casey's life; the Headmaster, Brian Mills.

To be continued...

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	9. Chapter 9: The inconsiderate past

Hey, just wanted to say a quick thank you to my reviewers from last time, talkingtothesky, Iaveina and losttimelady! I'd say this is about half way through the story and things are about to get a bit more interesting!

Enjoy!

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"Thank you for getting here as fast as you could-" the Headmaster paused, mid stumble, breathing harsh, pestered. He examined the newest member of CID, inquisitively glaring at her.

"Miss Carlisle?"

Rolling her shoulders back, trying to stand taller as she lifted her head into the air, Casey shook her long hair back, maintaining her almost professional facade. "Yep, that's me."

"Well, I'd never have guessed you'd end up in the police service!" he chuckled, hardly believing his eyes.

"Yeah, funny world, huh?" she mumbled, her not-so-inner teenager coming out in full force, her sarcasm as prominent as her estranged Father.

"Well, sir, can you give us a few details on the break in?" Sam enquired, trying to divert the conversation away from his new colleague's rather damaging yet peculiar past.

"Of course, certainly," Mr. Mills nodded, taking another glance at his old student. "Better go to my office, get a bit of privacy - I'm sure you know the way by now, don't you Casey? After all of the times..."

"Look 'ere," Gene demanded, stepping past the young woman as he became nearly nose to nose with the head of school. "I didn't come 'ere so you could play let's bitch in the classroom with my officer. No matter what 'appened between you and 'er before 'and, I don't care. We're 'ere to do our job but if you don't want us to, we might as well leave now and do business with some poor bastard that might need it."

Mr. Mills' mouth was agape; he'd not been spoken to like that since he was at school! "Y-yes, well, let's go to my office so we can discuss this further." he stammered, walking on off ahead whilst the three officers followed behind him, the Gov soon walking shoulder to shoulder with him.

Casey smirked a little, totally taken aback by the Governor's ruthless words to her Headmaster of a few months ago. It was the first time that Gene had actually stood up for her. She couldn't believe it, after years of being ignored by him, now he was being...protective of her?

Sam was vastly surprised how the Headmaster took little to no notice of the bloody teenager sprawled out all over the Biology lab floor. Now he was starting to understand perhaps why qualifications and education meant so little to Casey; he too feared that if this 'school' was his only option, he probably wouldn't have lasted.

Making their way inside the office, Gene declined the offer of a chair, whilst Sam and Casey sat gingerly in front of the man, both feeling a little on edge; the Gov's obvious temper was not helping either of them.

"Is there anything I can get for you?" Mr. Mills asked graciously, sighing as he took the weight off his feet, "Tea? Coff-"

"Answers," Gene interrupted, his voice stopping all signs of friendliness.

"Sorry, ummm..."

"DCI Hunt."

Brian gulped. "DCI Hunt, I don't understand what you mean..."

Gene's expression stayed sour, Mills regretting his questioning, sinking into his ripped chair, as if his timorousness was dragging him down.

"What I mean is any _responsible_ Headmaster would 'ave a good idea which of their little toe rags would do summats like this."

Brian twitched at Gene's snide comment. "Are you implying that one of my pupils would do this?"

"Oh come on Mills," Gene halted, finding this all too slow. "You're hardly running bloody Eton are you? You've got the bastards running around like retards in a sugar factory!"

"I would sooner you didn't speak about my pupils like that."

"Oh, finally found a pair of balls 'ave we?"

Casey slouched in her chair; never in a million years did she think Gene would be this difficult with a potential witness! Then again, she didn't expect him to nearly batter a pupil to death...

"Mr. Mills, I think what my Gov is trying to say is, do you think that any of your pupils would have the _potential_ to do anything like this?"

Brian turned to DI. Tyler, a stern look kidnapping his softer features. "It's about the only bloomin' potential they've got."

"It's probably best not to jump to conclusions at this stage of things," Sam tried to reason. "I think DCI Hunt was only enquiring just in case you'd heard of any of them talking about a burglary..."

"Crikey, come on Inspector, you've seen how chaotic it is out there. None of my staff would have the faintest idea about any of it. They're all always talking about crime, other stuff like that. It doesn't mean they're going to go out and do it but it doesn't mean that they wouldn't either."

Sam could see the pain of Brian Mills admitting his students as criminals, his conscience struggling to deny this; he realised what a poor reputation his school had. Some days, he couldn't find the strength to reject it. With his tie barely clinging to the collar, his expression was that of fatigue; the only way he could bring any ounce of joy to his life was to mock those around him. It just so happened today that Casey was his victim.

"Yeah but, sir, you must know which ones would be bluffing and which ones are likely to go ahead and do it." WPC Carlisle finally piped up, much to the surprise of everyone present.

"Yes but, Casey, up until half an hour ago, I was expecting you to only visit your boyfriend in prison when you are eight months pregnant, not be a copper."

Gene's forehead creased, his gaze stern, directed at Casey.

"Don't worry, I'm not pregnant and I haven't got a boyfriend." she sighed, trying to decide in her mind whether it's better that way or not.

As the silence grew uncomfortable, a knock came at the door. The invitation to come in was eagerly accepted by the other members of CID.

"Did you find anything of any use?" Sam quizzed as the three of them wondered inside.

"No, nothing really," DS Carling spoke, scratching his head.

"I did find this though, Inspector." Annie stepped forward, a tissue folded over several times unravelling in her hands.

Sam stood in front of her, accepting the pair of tweezers she was also clutching. He took the bead between the metal, shining it towards the light. "Looks like it could have come from any girl's jewellery."

"Unless it was from a puff's collection!" Gene interjected, swaggering back over to his team.

"Was there anything else?" Sam asked a little impatiently.

"Not really, boss," Chris shook his head. "We've got some bits of glass and stuff to take to the lab like."

"What about the chair? Please don't tell me you took it back to the damned classroom!" the Governor spoke, feeling his blood pressure rise a little.

"No coz Cartw-, Annie, said it would be a good idea to take it wiv' us." Chris responded, budging his way over to Casey in as discrete a manner as his clumsiness would permit.

Flicking her hair over her shoulder, Casey soon felt the gaze of her former Headmaster fall upon her and Chris. Brian gave him a distant yet intrigued look, like looking into the face of someone you remember vaguely passing in a shop or in the street once or twice before.

"You...you used to come here, didn't you?" he questioned, stroking his dented, wearing chin curiously. "Tell me, what's your name?"

Chris appeared dumbfounded, shifting his gaze from one person to another in the room. Really, he didn't know why he was so shocked; it wasn't like he'd made that much of a lasting impression on the place that Headmaster Mills would actually _remember _him anyway.

"Chris Skelton," he replied, sweeping his ever growing fringe away from his eyes.

Brian pondered for a few moments, Chris dreading his response. "Oh yes, I think I remember you. Yes, you were the boy who was always getting his head shoved down the toilet, am I right?"

Chris swallowed, shifting nervously from one foot to the other. "N-no, Sir, that wasn't me. You must 'ave got me confused with someone else."

"No, I'm pretty certain that was you."

"Yeah, it sounds like summat that would 'appen to the Div," Ray chuckled, chewing his gum obnoxiously loud.

Mills nodded his eyes thoughtful and reminiscing. "Oh yes, I remember now - what was it they used to call you? Pissy Chrissy!"

Gene, Ray and Brian bust out laughing, Annie and Sam stifling a laugh, fearing they'd upset Chris whilst Casey frowned openly, her eyebrows knitting together like one of Grandma's stiff scarf's.

She shot daggers to those laughing, peeping at Chris' face, watching it drop every millimetre as every second passed; she was simply appalled.

"Whatever happened to sympathy?" she mumbled sarcastically, grabbing Chris' hand; she hoped to help these feelings pass.

He looked at her, quickly removing his hand from hers. He couldn't understand why the Gov's expression had abruptly changed from dizzy euphoria to solemnly stern.

"Right, we'd better get off," Gene announced, his body heaving towards the door, his face loosening a tiny bit.

"Thank you for your time, Mr. Mills," Sam gestured, shaking the other man's hand. "We'll be in touch."

"Thank you very much. I hope you'll have some news for us soon - there's nothing worse than leaving something to dangle for too long. Ain't that right, _Chrissy_?"

Mills shoved his elbow playfully into DC Skelton's ribs, laughing in a sarcastic, childish way, trying to make light of Chris' obviously painful memories.

"Yes, that's right," he frowned, walking swiftly away from the place that brought him so much displeasure in the past.

Casey stopped, considering punching the bloke for what he'd just said. She felt her young blood rise; she knew if she had slapped him there and then she would have been just as unprofessional as him.

Through gritted teeth she smiled painfully awkwardly, marching away without saying another word. She feared for anything she did utter to him morphing into unpleasantries, stooping down to her Father's unnecessary anger.

Gene paced after her, his face severe like a bulldog in a headlock; trapped but eager to run riot. Sam jogged lightly to get closer to the Gov, in a desperate attempt at making sure cool heads did indeed prevail.

DCI Hunt stood directly before the new recruit, an unreadable mask devouring his usual firm face. DI Tyler had seen this look before, recognising it now as disappointed anger. It took several months for him to realise exactly what it was; in his twenty-first century haste ridden work ethic style, he didn't dwell on anything for too long (at least in terms of Gene's rather auspicious facial expressions).

Casey head rose, nose pointing towards the sky, trying to stand toe to toe with the Chief Inspector. Her chest heaving, it scared Sam as to how much she looked like Hunt, her lip twisted in ignorant denial at doing anything at all wrong.

"Cartwright," Gene spoke, the silence beginning to melt piece by piece around them. "You go in the car with Chris and Ray."

Annie's gaze switched rapidly between her superior officers not so much in shock but worry; what was Gene honestly playing at?

Gene's steely eyes never turned away from Casey, not one blink went too slowly, in fact, she thought he'd lost that function. "I need a plonk in the car to make sure nothin' bad 'appens to that stuff."

Although disapproving of her insignificant, futile pet name, Annie nodded in approval, heading off with a mocking Ray and embarrassingly disgruntled Chris.

As the blue mini drove out of sight, Gene's gaze broke, his voice harshly awaking Casey.

"Get in the car. Now!"

Why is Gene so mad at Casey?

Check back for more, soon!

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	10. Chapter 10: His rage and her age

Hiya! Sorry this update is a little late – I've had a bit too much work to do recently and not enough hours in the day to do it! A big, huge thank you goes out to Iaveina, talkingtothesky and sparks733 for reviewing last chapter – I always appreciate any feedback what-so-ever, be it good or not so good, so don't forget to leave some at the end of this chapter...please?!

Thank you and enjoy!

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Casey Carlisle did as she was told, stomping as patiently as she could back to the vehicle. Gene's unrelenting stare followed her, his body following momentarily. Sam sighed as silently as humanly possible; things certainly didn't bode well for the newest member of Manchester's A Division.

She sulked in the back of the Cortina, arms folded subtly over her chest, as if she'd surpassed the moody teenager stage of adolescence. The Gov slammed the copper car's door shut, rattling the motor as he shifted his weight inside, ready to start the engine.

DI Tyler jumped in next to his commanding officer, trying to be as invisible as possible; the issue that Gene had should be left between himself and his daughter. He decided only to step in if absolutely necessary.

Sam could see from the corner of his eye Gene's over the top exasperation. He'd experienced this stage of silence before, the one he would like to call the calm before the storm. However, with Hunt, it was more like the storm before the hurricane; the thundering glancing and lighting sneers before the whirlwind of abuse.

He changed gears.

"What the fuck do you think you're playing at?" he cried, his teeth clashing as he words spat from his mouth quicker than he could speak them.

Casey smirked, trying to veil her nervous tendencies. "Is that rhetorical?"

Sam didn't know whether Gene know what rhetorical meant but couldn't stand the thought of an ear bashing so kept his trap shut. For a while, at least.

"I thought I told you not to be bloody cheeky to your superior officers?!" Gene shouted, the Cortina roaring off down the road.

Casey lost her cool. "Yo- I did..."

"What was all of that shit with Skelton? 'Olding 'is 'and classes as getting close to one of my officers..."

"You said not to have a relationship with one of your officers. 'Olding 'is 'and doesn't class as fucking him, 'Dad'."

Sam gulped at Casey's two grave mistakes. Although extremely funny, her impression being spot on, it was just something that you shouldn't do to your superior, no matter whom you are or where ever you worked. But definitely don't do it to their face.

Secondly, he noticed Gene's eyes narrow at the mere hint of the word 'Dad'; he couldn't tell whether the blues of his eyes softened, trying not to get so frustrated at his own offspring. Yet, his usual anger dominated over all else.

Gene snorted, his eyes stammering shut. That one word reminded him of his greatest misgiving; spawning something intelligent enough to speak and react to him. Oh, and to be brave enough to give him as good as he gave.

"I suggest, WPC Carlisle, if you want your job to stay secured, that you keep your trap shut and obey my orders, do you understand? What I say goes - same goes for Dorothy over there."

Gene's discomfort at yelling at his own daughter so aggressively was vaguely apparent. Yet, the torture of their secret was even greater; the denial was becoming harder to deny. Whilst she was a big pain in the arse to the team, Gene was determined to keep her close - and for her to become a damn good copper in the act.

They pulled up at the station without another word being said. Casey decided that it was a good idea to stop pressing the Gov's buttons for fear of one recoiling back in her face.

As the Gov marched on ahead, his face frozen in ignorance, Sam hung around, waiting for Casey to make her way up the stairs. He was semi-shocked to see her expression mournfully fearful, somehow expecting her to be _the _miniature version of Gene Hunt; never letting anxiety take control.

She clutched at her bag nervously, flustered as she flicked her hair back over her shoulder; she was nearly shaking in agitation but hid this by her stiff, rigid expression and walking as if she was one of the last of the 20th Century Russian Monarchs.

"WPC Carlisle, wait up," Sam urged, now walking beside her. "Are you ok?"

She bit her bottom lip, trying to stop the tears from falling. Nodding, she gave him an awkward, secretive look. Sam'd seen that on the Gov's face just the day before...

"Yeah."

Noticing how insecure she sounded, Sam stroked her arm friendly, without getting too close for comfort. "Just do as he asks and it'll be pretty easy for you."

"I don't think he would ever make it easy for me," she sniffed, her eyes aimed at the ground. "I guess I'll just have to accept it or move on."

Sam smiled kindly to the young woman, trying to sympathise as best he could. "Trust me, it'll get better. Once you get to know everyone, things will be better."

"What, like it was for poor Chris earlier?"

Her sarcastic, self pitying laugh made him exhale loudly; he found it extremely difficult to deny. "Yes, well, Chris...he's always going to have that feel about him. Don't worry, it won't happen to you."

The genuineness of her boss' voice was hard to ignore; the legitimate fashion in which he spoke almost fooled her into believing it was true.

"Well, I hope you are right."

They stopped walking and turned to face each other, their eyes dodging contact as Sam decided to flee on ahead to check on his superior.

Casey wondered behind, feeling very much alone. Although she wanted to remove all modes of cynicism from her being, she couldn't help but think that Sam was merely playing Gene's lapdog. Although he may stand up for himself - and others - at time, he seemed almost like a disillusioned housewife; he knew his place and was almost thankful of there being no line to cross.

The way he sometimes wondered behind the Gov, head hung low compared to Gene's posture exuding confidence and self awareness, it seemed as if he'd once been in Gene's position. It was as if he couldn't stand to look at him sometimes for fear of remembering the times gone by.

With her eyebrows raised, she lifted herself up, knowing that she would be the only person to do so.

Finding her desk directly behind the absent Inspector, she sat down, trying to make sense of her scribbled and, for the most part, nonsense notes. Quickly becoming bored of the reading the same two paragraphs over and over again, her attentions diverted to Gene's office.

The blinds were partially open, enough for someone to see through if they were really looking. Her eyes followed Sam, his body, the way he seemed as he spoke to the superior officer.

Casey knew there was something very different about DI Sam Tyler, almost odd. The way he talked to her, trying to make her his equal, despite the obvious age and gender differences...it was so unlike anything she'd ever experienced before.

The way he spoke to her, it wasn't forced. Or at least, it wasn't apparent it was forced. Not like with Chris; the way he frequently corrected himself whilst speaking to her. But Sa-, DI Tyler...

"Oi, you tarts who came wit' us to that shit 'ole of a school get in 'ere for a briefing!"

No one could perhaps accuse Gene Hunt of being overly polite. Fidgeting in her chair, Casey pushed her blonde locks once again away from her face, waiting for the others to go forward with her.

Ray went in first, cigarette surgically glued between his finger tips as Annie trailed behind, smiling absently to her. Chris held the door open, nodding at her reflection in the door.

The four stood before Gene who was slouched in his chair, waiting for him to say something. Sam, leant against the radiator, felt this to be an almost pointless exercise; it was going to prove nothing other than the fact they had no bloody idea who broke into the school last night.

"Right, I know us three found bugger all out from the useless tosser of a 'eadmaster but did you three nancies get anything?"

"We already told yer Gov that there was bugger all at the crime scene," Chris mumbled, still sore from his recent humiliation.

Gene rolled his eyes, fed up of the soft, sissy approach. "Don't start getting yer pants all pissy Skelton - I just wanted to know if you say or 'eard anything, that's all."

"There was one thing, Gov, that I found a bit suspicious," Annie cleared her throat and stepping forward a little. "When we were outside, one of the caretakers came and started talking to us."

"Oh yeah, what did he say?" Gene quizzed, sitting more attentively in his chair.

"He said that he was there until nearly nine o'clock last night. Apparently, there was a lot of mud on the field as if someone had gone around with a car or something. So, to make it safe for the pupils to come in for sports the next day, they called 'im and asked 'im to clear it all up."

"Was it all broken in to then?" Sam asked, fearing it was a silly question anyway.

"He says not but there was something rather odd about him."

Gene raised an eyebrow. "Oh yeah, what kind of odd?"

"I dunno, Sir, he was just very...pedantic about the whole thing. He was saying stuff about how he was gonna get blamed for it but it wasn't his fault..."

"'E kept shifting from one foot to the other, as if 'e did 'ave something to 'ide," Ray hastened, taking an exasperated drag on his cigarette.

Sam licked his bottom lip, his face screwing up in concentration. "Annie, since you're the psychology expert, what would you say he was doing?"

DC Cartwright considered her Boss and boyfriend's question for a moment. "Well, I think he was trying to almost divert the attention away from himself. Either that or he knew who it was and is trying to protect them."

Sam nodded, knowing that it was both logical and sensible. "Did you get his name?"

"No, but I know 'is name already," Chris spoke, trying to refrain from his bad mood. "'Is name is Ivor, don't know about 'is last name."

"Well, that's at least a start." Sam shrugged.

Gene grunted the chair squeaking as he sat up further. "Even so, it's not really a solid start, is it? We know nothing."

DI Tyler frowned at his Gov's defeatist attitude. "Well, I think that now we've visited the school and got the samples we can at least make a start on the whole thing whilst we wait for forensics. Perhaps a job for you WPC Carlisle is to go through some of the files of pupils from the school to see if any of them have previous criminal records."

"Sure," Casey nodded, grateful to be given something worth while to do.

"Yeah and Cartwright, you can go wiv' 'er, make sure she doesn't get up to any mischief." Gene smiled, trying to mask his sarcasm as an almost innocent joke.

For the remainder of the day, Casey spent the her time with Annie, trying to get use to life in CID. Whilst she liked Annie and got on pretty well with her, she felt a common bond with her; they were both perhaps a little shy at times, both trying to fight against the modern notions of womanhood. They both had a strong will to make a big impression as Police Officers, settling for nothing other than grit and determination at their work.

As soon as Sam came in to tell the both of them to call it a day, Casey was for the most part pleased; she had never experienced such a hard day's work in many years.

She headed back to her desk to collect her bag and belongings together, humming as silently as she could to herself. She couldn't wait to go home and put her feet up for a while she waited for her Mother...

"Hey, Casey, isn't it?"

She felt a hand on her back, startled and squealing, she shot upright. "Sorry, I didn't mean to, Chris..."

"It's ok," he replied, voice soft, forgiving. "I was jus' coming to ask you, well, I were wondering like...if you wanted to, uh, go for a drink in The Railway Arms, our local...everyone will be in there, yer know, er, Ray, Annie, Sam, Gene?"

She smirked briefly, thinking of her Father's response; arm in arm with a fellow member of CID, in a pub, under the legal age of drinking...as tempting as it was, she could still hear DI Tyler's words swirl predominantly in her mind;

_'We should be upholding the law, not breaking it!'_

"Sorry, Chris, but I can't."

Visible upset, he removed his hand hastily from her frame. "Ok...why not?"

She smiled kindly to him, grateful for the gesture; he almost looked cute with his big puppy dog eyes. "Coz I'm underage."

Picking up her belongings and heading towards the door, DC Skelton didn't follow her. His face, trying to stay pleasant and positive, slumped into a bizarre concoction of distress and inquisitiveness. "Oh...how old are you then?"

With a grin capturing her lips, Casey had a few departing words for her fellow worker. "That's for me to know and you to find out...perhaps!"

And with a wink, she was gone, returning on her lonesome to her flat.

But how long would she be able to stay in a good mood for?

Check back for more, soon!

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Please review! 


	11. Chapter 11: Facing the music

Hi everyone - thanks to everyone who read the last chapter, especially to talkingtothesky and sparks733 for reviewing! A huge thank you goes to JudasFm who is such a great reader and always spots my mistakes when I'm too blind to see them!

Thanks for coming back! I hope you all enjoy this update and take the time to review afterwards!

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Making her way inside her latest place of work, WPC Casey Carlisle reflected on her first day as a part of Manchester's A Division. Her memories were a mixture of optimism that somehow always got polluted with her feelings of doubt. She was more than glad to be a part of the police, eager to help tackle crime and be a bigger part of the community which she grew up in. Yet, she couldn't stop feeling hopelessly anxious about her abilities. 

Although she didn't feel like she wouldn't be comfortable at the station (once she got use to the stares of horny men and chauvinism), she just didn't feel that she yet fitted in with already tight knit group of workers who were already use to each others customs and personalities.

She was more than determined to keep her head down and her chin up, making the best of the intimidating situation until she became more confident in herself.

For the fear or being late (and running the risk of getting a bollocking from the not-so-forgiving DCI Hunt), Casey hurried up the concrete steps, beginning to regret her extra ten minutes in bed. Whilst it seemed like a good idea at the time, being fully refreshed and alert for the day ahead, it didn't seem like such a good idea anymore; jogging on a full stomach (or at least after a couple of rounds of toast) was never calming.

Opening the double doors, she glanced up at the clock; it read one minute to nine.

'Phew, thank gosh for that...'

Her musings stopped dead in her tracks as soon as she saw one grumpy looking Governor perched on the edge of her desk, tapping his watch face time after time. He was shouting at the team already, not a good sign for early on a Wednesday morning.

She crept into the office, like a poltergeist, wishing not to be seen. Yet, the inevitability of sound stunting her plans.

"You're late," he grumbled, not even turning to look at her.

"Sorry, I..."

His head snapped round, his face a crimson mask of fury. "What, you overslept? Went out on the pull last night and shagged so many men you could barely walk this morning, I don't care," he spat, standing, towering over her. "Just don't you _ever_ be late again, you understand?"

His pointing was unyielding, meaning to be as harsh as possible. Swallowing and fighting back tears, she inhaled, bowing down. "Yes, Sir," she nodded, taking her seat at her desk like a disgraced school child.

Shifting through various pieces of paper, wanting nothing more than to disappear for good, she didn't notice the Gene Genie leave. Or Sam enter...

"Hey," he greeted, examining her face. Although (through the previous days experience) he was trying to judge Casey's facial expressions according to his past with her Father, he just couldn't make out what it was that she might be feeling; she looked sad, that much he was sure of. Perhaps even a little tired? Or angry? He dreaded asking her whether she was ok...

As much as he hated to stereotype, women had an unregistered quality of blowing up every time a bloke asked them that question. He didn't know what it was about that simple enquiry that made them so volatile. He tried not to question the fairer sex in a fussy or nosey manner. But for some reason – even when he asked Annie that straight forward, caring question – women just took offence to it.

"Hi, DI Tyler," she smiled a very watery, unsure smile. Barely making eye contact, Sam knew that something was up.

And he knew fore well exactly where the offender was right then...

"Ummm, did you find that information that I left you on the desk?"

"This one about correct procedure when making arrests?" she questioned, shifting through the various files and bits of paper congregating on her desk.

"If you wouldn't mind just having a look at them whilst I go and have a word with the Gov and then hopefully, we'll get out and about and put that into practise, ok?"

Casey smiled once again, this time a little brighter, seemingly grateful for getting out of the office a little bit. Sam turned away, his eyes narrowing as he made his way over to the office of one rather miserable Detective Chief Inspector.

Tyler burst into his office, neither man greeting the other or flinching at the sound of metal and glass colliding like two proud warriors before battle. Gene sniffed a little sarcastically, throwing a dart at the board, directly between the eyes of his nemesis, DCI Litton.

"What's the matter Sammy Bo-"

"What have you said to Casey?"

Not taken aback by the younger man's abrupt quizzing, Gene didn't move one bit. Instead, he took another dart, throwing it slightly harder than its predecessor.

"Nothing."

"Come off it, Gene!" Sam snarled, his eyes twitching at the morose mocking of his superior officer. "I know you said something to her..."

"'Ow do you know she's just doesn't look upset coz Chris asked her out?"

"Because I stood there and saw you practically scream your head off at her!"

Wishing that he did have a quick and at least semi-witty reply to his Inspector's answer, Gene stood from his seat, leaning against the wall without a hint of remorse. "Yeah well, she needed putting in 'er place."

"What? For being two seconds late?!"

"Calm down Gladys, don't want you getting yer frilly plonk knickers in a twist do we?"

Sam snickered in annoyance. "She was only a minute at the most late..."

"Yes I _know_ that, Detective Inspector Tyler," Gene spoke, pronouncing each word in perfect, classic English, "But she knew the score when she signed up. Start as we mean to go on and all that shite..."

"That still does NOT justify you to yell at her like that!"

"Perhaps it doesn't but I'm not 'avin' 'er thinking that she can get away with it every morning," Gene's voice, as steadfast as ever, was hiding a series of notions that Sam was only beginning to unravel; the fibres of these ideas were extremely knotted, complicated even in the Gov's sometimes erratic mind.

"Oh, I get it," Sam's eyes flinched, his tongue pressing against the side of his mouth as the Governor's twisted plan soon became more apparent. "You _hate_ the fact that she's got attention from one of the members of CID!"

"Oh get over yourself, Gladys just coz she's not making a spectacle out of herself like you did on your first couple of days, don't mean she 'as to."

Gene's voice told Sam to shut the hell up; it was dangerously deep, earthy and soul destroying.

Mainly, it was his soul being destroyed; Gene could sense it was only a matter of time before the little girl bitched and told everyone who her Father was.

Nothing was going to stop him from keeping her trap shut and especially not stopping him from doing his up most to continue what he does best; keeping the city of Manchester safe for all.

Sam swallowed a little of his pride, nearly choking on the acidic taste lining the back of his throat with a scorching sensation. "Yeah, well, I think it wouldn't exactly kill you to be a little more considerate to her. You know, manners go and long way and all..."

"What do you think I'm running 'ere, Sam? A police station or a ruddy day care centre?"

Gene stood from his chair, feeling a little worse for wear; it wasn't the usual scenario, him feeling some of the effects of a night of boozing. It only usually happened when he had a lot on his mind, too much to focus on. The headache usually caused by his malt was added and magnified by her mere bloody presence...

"I just think a little compassion wouldn't go a miss that's all."

Gene knew this was one of those occasions where Sam would be so bloody stubborn about the whole thing until he sort of, kind of attempted to...compromise with him. "Yeah, well, if she's on time and does as she's told, I won't 'ave a reason to yell at 'er will I?"

A knock came at the door, DC Cartwright entering the room as quietly as she possibly could. "Sorry, I'm not interrupting anything, am I?"

"It depends what you 'ave to tell us," Gene snorted, taking his seat back in the recliner; standing up for any length of time today may turn out to be a bad idea.

"Well, you know that me and WPC Carlisle took a look at some of the files for the pupils who go to the school?"

Gene nodded, signalling for her to continue without uttering a word.

"Well, we found a couple of pupils, Mark Bolton and Jerry Boyd; they were fined last year for an attempted burglary on a pensioner's house the other side of town."

"How old are they?" Sam questioned.

"Fifteen and Sixteen." Annie confirmed, flicking between the files briefly.

Sam and the Gov gave each other an almost amiable look.

Annie stared at the files once again, in thought. "Wait a minute, wouldn't WPC Carlisle know them?"

"Yeah, she's sixteen, Gov."

Gene gazed at Sam, a slight grimace taking over his almost passive features. "Go and fetch 'er, let's find out."

Feeling that he was being treated like some sort of obedient dog, DI Tyler swallowed faintly, doing as his Boss ordered. Upon speaking to the young woman, she was reluctant at first to do as he asked. However, he reassured her that it was only helpful to the case if she came into the office, agreeing to her superior's wishes.

She entered the office, flipping her locks away from her eyes but avoiding all means of contact with her undiagnosed Father; trying to be civil with him for the rest of the day was bound to be a bitter pill to swallow.

"Yes, DCI Hunt is there anything I can help you with?" she questioned, her voice level, sarcasm still managing to splinter through her attempts at civility.

"Yes there is, WPC Carlisle," he spoke in an equally as catty tone. "Do you know a couple of youngish bastards called Mark Bolton and Jerry Boyd?"

For a split second, Sam thought he could detect a look of fear in her eyes; they protruded, darting from side to side a little. He dismissed his cynical notions though, remembering the incidences from the previous day at the school...

"Yeah, they're a couple of boys in my year. Well, I say that, but they hardly ever showed up to school or anything..."

"Bingo!" Gene interrupted, standing taller.

Sam's eyebrow raised, a little confused. "What?"

"We've got 'em!" he cried, grabbing his tan coloured coat and making his way over to the door.

"Gov, what the heck are you talking about?"

"DI Tyler's right, Sir," Annie piped up. "Just coz both of them have a criminal past it doesn't mean that they're directly linked to this one."

"Plus, in case you'd forgotten Gov, there were links to a girl's bracelet at the crime scene..."

"For once, Tyler, I wish you'd stop being so bloody gender conscious," Gene retorted. "Wit' names like that, they're bound to be bum bandits!"

For the remaining three officers in the office glancing at each other uncomfortably, it was only a case of how long it would take before one of them couldn't withstand the urge to slap - or thump - him across the face.

Following the barking Governor, who by this time had stolen the second round of Chris' bacon sandwich and had stuffed half of it down his neck, they knew what the next thing would be...

"Right, me, Dorothy and the new girl are going to these robber's 'ouses. You lot stay 'ere and guard ship..."

"I think you're getting mixed up with your metaphors again," Sam interjected, grabbing his leather jacket.

"Oh never mind that you tart, come on, let's get movin'!" he bellowed, the sarnie disappearing quicker than a villain into the night.

Skelton, up until this time who had been fairly retiring, only gazing up to see who was pinching his breakfast this time, smiled unsurely to the youngest member of CID. Truth to be told, he didn't know how to react to her, not knowing how old she was and everything; not being able to get to know her better over a pint or a port and lemon seemed the most unnatural thing in the world to him.

"Hiya, C-Casey."

Gene's eyes narrowed. "Come on, Carlisle, stop flirtin' with pissy boy!"

With that, and a new reason to be irritable towards her Father, Casey followed DI Tyler helplessly, knowing that today wasn't going to be as positive as she'd initially hoped.

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Thanks for reading...please review! 


	12. Chapter 12: The King was in his castle

As they approached the first of the suspects houses, new WPC Carlisle could feel her stomach drop through the floor of the Cortina; she recognised this road. She remembered all of the times not so long ago, walking pass row upon row of terraced housing. She could almost still hear the shrill wails of the undernourished cats and children alike, some scrounging the dustbins to find their next meal.

It was difficult to even try and find a nice thing about Manchester's bleak street, Blackpool Road. Known very well amongst CID, it was the common place late night on a Saturday to find binge drinkers, stinking of ever type of ale ever invented, passed out in the middle of the road without a second thought for the safety of themselves or others.

"Which 'ouse is this one?" Gene barked out, staring over at Sam and Casey in turn.

DI Tyler grabbed his notebook from his jacket pocket. "According to DC Cartwright, this is the Bolton residence."

"'Ow are things going between you and the plonk?" the Gov asked in a semi-snide fashion; he was trying to be interested rather than nosey but somehow, his voice just didn't live up to his expectations.

As the car jolted to a halt, Casey's head shot up; had she just heard what her Father said correctly?

Sam rolled his eyes but the young woman could see his face soften just a little at the mention of the other woman's name. "That 'plonks' name is Annie and things are going ok, thanks for the concern."

Casey's eyes tapered, albeit just a little; she had no idea that Cartwright and Sam were...an item. Sure, she seen the subtle yet flirtatious glances across the office, the way he always stood up for her. How could she have _not _have known?

"Glad to 'ear it," Gene mumbled sarcastically, leading his two troops over to the door of the first victim. To be honest, the Governor had no idea what he would do if it turned out not to be them. He was just so damn sure there was a link there; his gut was telling him so.

Casey followed her bosses, trying to forget about the recent revelations; there would be no point in adding that to her ever expanding pile of angst.

They made their way over to the porch owned by the Bolton's, each officer stood in a lack of awe for a few moments.

"Looks like a right dump!" Gene grumbled, shaking his head.

Sam inhaled, trying to keep his cool. "Yes, well, your house isn't exactly Buckingham Palace, is it?"

Gene's shoulders pushed back, his chest heaving forward. "Never insult a King's castle, Tyler!" he warned, thumping against the door. He wasn't about to stand on ceremony for anyone and he wanted to make sure Mark Bolton knew it.

As they continued to wait for several minutes, the Gov's patience grew even thinner. "You don't think this is one of those rare occasions where he got his arse into gear and bothered going to school do you?"

"I doubt it." Casey sneered, surprised at her own civility. From what she did know about Bolton, she certainly didn't like and had less of a desire to see him than many people could imagine (that was the impression she was giving, at least).

After a few more moments of waiting around, just as the Gov was considering turning around and carrying on with the case elsewhere, a shaggy looking figure appeared behind the door frame, head barely combed and only just visible.

"Erm, can I 'elp you?"

The rugged yet uncharismatic voice of the wayward teen was barely above a mumble with sleep thickly covering it like a King sized duvet.

Sam grabbed his badge, thrusting it in the face of the youth in a bid for him to see it. "DI Tyler with DCI Hunt and WPC Carlisle. Have you got a few minutes?"

Bolton squinted at the officer's code, fearing that he had little choice other than offering them inside. He recognised the blonde at the back, and the blonde at the front.

"You're that bastard who fitted me up a year ago!"

"Oh 'appy days!" Gene spoke, his voice becoming elated as he shoved past the 'offender' without even a hint of an invitation into the house.

Sam motioned for Casey to follow him. She hid her face behind her fringe, unsure of how long she'd actually be able to keep her identity concealed. She reluctantly accepted that sooner or later she'd be recognised by Bolton, hoping that his lack of alertness would make him forget her name.

Mark followed the Gov into the living room where the officer was seemingly making himself comfortable. With his somewhat muddy, tainted white loafers resting on the coffee table and several cushions propping himself up, he sighed as if it was a familiar environment to him. It was as if he was back in his own home, waiting for the Missus to get him some supper. "So, you gonna offer us a drink or what, Bolton?"

His face turned a shade or two lighter with shock, the effects of sleep finally beginning to wear off. "Get yer mucky feet of me Mum's table! If she get's 'ome, she'll 'ave a fit!"

"I can tell that you don't 'ave many guests round, do you Bolton?" Gene responded, taking a fresh packet of cigarettes from his top pocket.

"Please, Sir, I asked you nicely..."

"Oh stop being such a tart and get us summats to drink!"

Defeated (at least for the time being), Mark wondered off into the kitchen as Sam and Casey took the sign of Gene's rather petulant mood to be a warning and to be seated, almost quickly.

"Gov, take your feet off his table."

Gene eyed Sam with suspicion. "Since when 'ave you cared about folk's old 'anded down tables?"

"He did ask you nicely, that's all."

"I'm trying to decide who sounds like the bigger fairy - you or twinkle toes in there!"

Casey stiffened, seeing Bolton glaring at her with her sharp, dagger like blue eyes. He looked away, returning seconds later, clutching a tray with steaming hot yet incredibly weak coffee in a chipped pot.

His hands, a little shaken, managed to place the cups and sugar down, gesturing for the officers to help themselves as and when they wanted to.

Sam, fearing it was too early for a proper drink, gladly accepted, gazing over at WPC Carlisle. She hastily declined, her Boss deciding to sit back down.

"You not gonna offer me one, Dorothy?"

Sam smirked. "You're big enough and ugly enough to get one yourself."

'He didn't call me ugly,' Casey silently thought to herself. 'That must mean...'

"What are you doing round 'ere, may I ask?"

Gene was slightly surprised by the bastard's inquisitiveness, thinking that he was only asking as a way to get them out of his way (not likely).

"When was the last time you attended school, Mr. Bolton?" Sam jumped in, before the Governor could say something too rash to be helpful.

"Well, not yesterday but I did the day before that," for a moment, the lad was put off by Gene's grunting and face like an aging bulldog; pissed off because of inactivity and necessity. "Why? Are you here to check up on my attendance record?"

"No, you bloody dipshit!" Gene vented, nearly choking on his fag ash. "Why would I send my officer's out for a stupid little thing like that?"

"We're not exactly Community Support Officers," Sam mumbled, already getting bored with Gene's blatantly bias questioning.

The other three present looked at him as if he was mad.

"Anyway, there was a break in at your school the other night. We just wondered if..."

"No, no, no!" Mark cried, jumping from his seat, his hands shrouding his ears. "What is it wiv you lot thinking that I'm always up to no good?"

"Calm down Mr. Bolton," Sam urged, standing up in an attempt to be diplomatic. "We were just shifting through our files yesterday and noticed you'd been in a bit of bother before..."

"Yeah, sit down and shut up," Gene spoke. "Stop pretending there are fire works spiralling up your arse, it's not the fifth of November!"

"No!" he yelled, pacing as his face became red, enraged. "You're not gonna fit me up again like you did last time!"

"Nobody's saying you did it," Sam attempted to be the voice of reason. "It would just be helpful if you sat down and answered the questions."

Mark gave him a suspicious look, tossing it between the two males and his former peer.

"If you've got nothing to hide than that's it. We'll leave and carry on our investigation elsewhere."

"Promise?"

Sam nodded, waiting until the younger man took his place once again before returning to his seat. He spied him, running unsteady hands through greasy hair, barely maintaining eye contact. Even the logic of Sam was coming round to the idea that Bolton knew more than he was letting on.

Gene straightened himself, peeved that he had to move to get his own drink, a shite one at that. "So then, Marky Boy, you never _did_ tell us where you were that night of the burglary."

"You never asked!"

His defensiveness was both curious and unnerving for Casey; she had known Bolton long enough to know exactly when he was hiding something. Their eyes caught for a second, snagging uncomfortably as if on barbed wire before she turned away, flustered.

"Ok then, Mr. Bolton; where were you this past Tuesday night?" Sam quizzed, his patience beginning to wear ice thin.

"I was at 'ome, all night."

"Can anyone act as your alibi?" DI Tyler persisted, scribbling in his notebook. Mark gave him a confused glance, as if the officer was speaking in a completely foreign language. "Can anyone confirm that you were here all night?

"No. Me mam was out."

"Anybody else, what about your father?"

"I don't 'ave one, never met 'im."

Tyler shook his head, annoyed at himself for asking such a ridiculously personal question. "Sorry," he uttered, rubbing a hand over his weary eyes.

Casey swallowed trying not to become agitated. She'd never felt such a tense atmosphere in her life; you could saw through it like a chainsaw through semi-melted butter.

"I'm afraid that isn't good enough," Gene piped up, plonking his cup back on the table. "And I'm not just on about your coffee making!"

"I'm afraid that without an alibi, mate, you are still a potential suspect," Sam sighed heavily, noting the hopelessness embedded on Mark's face. "Why weren't you at school yesterday?"

Trying to cover his tracks without making it look like he'd prepared his response, Mark took a breath, his hands resting against the back of his neck. "I was feelin' ill. I 'adn't slept properly coz that night I'd 'ad a bit of food poisoning. With my mam being out and everything, I 'ad to cook for meself."

"With all due respects Mr. Bolton, if it had been food poisoning of any great level, you'd still be feeling nauseous today."

"But I am, that's why I was still in bed when you arrived, you see."

The Gov was getting fed up with his Inspector's softy softy approach. "So, 'ave you got a Doctor's note?"

"No, not yet."

"Well, as far as I'm concerned, you are still a potential thieving scumbag until results prove otherwise," Gene concluded, standing to his feet. He knew when he was wasting his time and this was one of the many occasions.

"You can't just accuse me of anything just coz I 'aven't got a quacks note or me mam's seal of approval."

"Oh but I just 'ave," Gene smirked, "We'll see ourselves out. If you do want to stop playing silly bastards, I think you are more than aware of where the station is by now, ok? Good lad!"

With a pat on the shoulders, Gene marched back to the Cortina, starting the Cortina up whilst waiting for the others to join him.

Sam turned to the Governor for a split second, oblivious to Mark and Casey's peculiar gazes at one another. He was aware that they were familiar with each other because they attended the same school. Yet, there was something about the two of them that just didn't add up; the way their eyes always made spiteful yet bizarrely amiable expressions. The way they seemed more than a little familiar to one another but Casey avoiding him for fear of being hurt once again, or at least seemingly.

"Right, well, you heard what DCI Hunt said, Mr. Bolton. If you do happen to hear anything, we'd appreciate it if you let us know, ok?"

"Ok well I doubt whether we'll have much to do wiv each other," Mark spoke, slamming the door. It was as if he really couldn't wait for the two of them to disappear from his mum's house for good.

They stood on the porch for a few moments, taking in the last ten minutes. It had been a complete waste of time. Yet for Casey it had been much more than that; it had been the ripping open of old wounds.

And Sam wasn't the only one to notice it.

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Thank you to sparks733 for reviewing my last chapter - sorry the update was a little longer than usual!

Please review and check back for more, soon!


	13. Chapter 13: Like Father, like Daughter

Hi and welcome to Chapter 13 of 'Keeping it in the Family?' Just wanted to say a huge thanks to my kind reviewers from last time, sparks733, losttimelady and JudasFm.

**This chapter is in loving memory of John Lennon, who died 27 years ago today. R.I.P. to a very talented song writer and performer. Thank you for being a part of the musical revolution.**

_'Imagine all the people, living life in peace.'_

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DCI Hunt, sternly taking his place at the steering wheel inside the Cortina, was beginning to get a little ticked off with two of his officers. For some reason, DI Tyler and WDC Carlisle were taking their time getting back into the vehicle. He couldn't make out what they were saying to one another but it looked to be pretty serious; Sam's face was level, cracking into what seemed like bewilderment as Casey trailed behind him. She didn't appear confused, more like upset, like she'd just seen a terrible ghost from her past that would not back off, that would not stay away.

They sauntered back over to the motor, delaying getting into the car for some reason for another; the Gov couldn't see to even try and lip read. "What took you two tarts so long?"

Sam's eyes narrowed, glaring to the Chief. "Nothing."

"Looked like a big fat load of nothing to me!"

Tyler stiffened, trying to spy Casey's face in the mirror that hung by a thread over his head. "We were just talking about Bolton, if that's alright by you."

"Oh yeah, what about the little scumbag?"

"Nothing to do with you!" Casey interjected, rather unexpectedly.

Gene and Sam spun around, although it took both of them a minute to realise just what she'd said. It was obvious to at least one of the superior officers that she was doing her up most to piss her Father off.

"Um, sorry, what did you just say, _WDC_ Carlisle?"

With all of his impatient strength, Hunt was trying to keep his calm, trying to be patient with his daughter. He gave her the opportunity to correct herself before he exploded.

"You heard."

Sam couldn't believe just how stubborn and unreasonable Casey was being; she really was like her father, even when she didn't put her mind to it. With his hands covering his ears, his eyes shut, Sam was trying to muffle out the next few painful minutes of yelling. It was going to be anything but pleasant.

"Oh yeah, you think it's nothing to do wit' me, huh?"

"Yes, that's exactly what I'm saying!"

"I don't know what your game is, Carlisle, but I don't like it one bit," Gene's voice began to simmer down a little, his red hot blood was still coursing through his veins, a car crash waiting to happen.

"Really?"

"For one thing, if you're going to answer back to me, I'd at least appreciate a 'Sir' or a simple 'yes, DCI Hunt' if you don't feel like knighting me just yet," he paused for breath, straightening his driving gloves against his knuckles. "And another thing, I don't care what your relationship was with that little thug; 'ere we're completely professional. The minute you step in that door at nine in the morning, you obey _my_ orders and treat _my _team and everyone else with respect. I don't care if 'e 'ad 'is todger up you, whether we're in the office or out and about, you act professionally, isn't that right, Dorothy?"

Upon hearing one of his many affectionate nicknames, Sam glanced up, fearful of what he mind find. "Don't drag me into all of this ridiculousness!"

"Some use you are!" the Governor snorted, revving up the Cortina.

Sam glanced through his notes, hoping to bring sanity to the proceedings. "Ok, turn left and then...this isn't the way to Almonds Street..."

"Congratulations, Sherlock. Move to the top of the class and collect the pencils on the way round."

"Where are you bloody well taking us?"

"I'm not taking _you_ anywhere, DI Tyler. I'm taking Carlisle 'ere 'ome."

"What?!" Sam and Casey cried in unison, the young girl feeling a bubble of nausea burst inside of her.

"Are you two tryin' to play deaf as well as dumb?" Gene griped, trying to make the car go an extra fifty miles per hour.

"Gov, slow the bloody hell down!" Tyler demanded, unprepared to give him the satisfaction of begging.

"No, Ethel I won't! We've got a lot to do today and can't afford to waste valuable time on a shitty school's petty burglary or _this_ gobshite!"

Casey felt her heart drop and drag along the roads surface, tearing with every jerk the vehicle made.

"Gene!" Sam whined in a vague attempt at sounding strong and in control. He knew the young woman wouldn't stand up for herself so he had to make the best effort possible to do it for her.

"What?" Hunt bellowed, the car coming to an almightily abrupt halt. In a fashion, he was parked on the curb, his eyes narrow in anger as he glared at his Inspector.

Sam almost forgot about the argument for shock of sitting still and a regulating heart beat. His eyes squinted, appalled at the grim buildings and scenery enclosing him in the car. Carlton Road also had the prestigious title of being one of Manchester's roughest areas, a VIP zone for prostitutes and rent boys alike.

"W-why are we here?" he stammered, remembering some of the fatal cases he remembered from 2006 (or at least, cases he _thought_ he remembered).

The Governor turned around as movement became known from the backseats.

"Get out," Gene ordered, his voice low yet still authoritative. "And come back when you think you can be a copper, not a ruddy, flirting teenager playing grown up."

Sam closed his eyes, wanting to be somewhere – anywhere – other than where he was right now.

Feeling tears sting her eyes like a thousand bees waiting to be drowned in an ever flowing fountain of sadness, she shot from the car, broken.

"I HATE YOU!" she cried, scarpering over to the house that Sam believed belonged to her. The door slammed shut loudly enough to be heard over Gene's grunting and obsessive revving of the Cortina.

As the Gov pulled fiercely away from the rough area, he didn't quite anticipate the bout of silence that he and his remaining officer were about to suffer. Sam – for perhaps once in his life – was speechless, annoyed at himself for not guessing exactly where the timid, youthful woman lived.

The way she acted contradicted that almost entirely. Sure, he saw that she was a little flirty but in more of an innocent, charming kind of way as opposed to the cheap, overbearing methods of a hooker. Casey seemed educated, even though her voice was too hesitant to be noticed, seemingly waiting before maturing into a sophisticated, intelligent woman.

The car halted again, Sam awakening himself from his comatosing thoughts. He was burning with infuriation and, if he'd been like Gene or Carling, he knew his actions over the next few minutes would have been involving fists.

"Come on, Dorothy," Gene spoke, bounding out of the motor, "Since we've got to do this rubbish, lets get it over and done with so we can get down to the pub for a quick pint or two."

"No," he stalled, his arms folded across his chest like an impatient, impertinent child.

"Sorry, what was that I heard, _Inspector_?" Gene lent back into the car, his face a picture of solemn skies and stormy seas.

"I said no."

Sam's voice was a little less harsh but still profusely aggravated.

Now it was the Gov's turn to play annoyance personified. "Get out the car Detective Inspector Tyler,"

"Or what?" Sam mockingly laughed, only just being bothered to face his superior officer.

"Or I'll make you get the hell out of that motor and make sure that you can't sit in the bugger for many weeks to come because your arse will be so black and blue after I've kicked it all over Manchester!"

Hunt moved with swiftness that Sam never imagined. The scruff of his neck was grasped not so gingerly between the leather bounded fingers of Gene who had absolutely no intention of letting go anytime soon.

As his face began to change colour, the air being squeezed out of him rapidly, he croaked, trying to get a dry remark out of himself. "If...you do that...I'll make sure...everyone knows...your secret!"

Gene's grip loosened but didn't let go completely. He let his and Sam's eyes dwell on each others proposals for a moment, each man contemplating who would come off the worst because of it.

They both knew the answer.

With his arms dropping, his soul beginning to unravel, Gene wondered on in front as Sam sat still, trying to regain his breath and composure. He knew that his last comment was low, too low to be tactical or even constructive.

He followed his Governor into the second house, fearing that the Gov may choose some other poor sod to lash out at.

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Returning back to CID after a not so informative trip to the house of Jerry Boyd, Sam went straight to his desk, re-reading the notes he'd make just minutes ago.

So far, nothing in this case was adding up, not one little bit. The bracelet links were puzzling him, the boy's stories were rather perplexing and the Gov was annoying him with his twisted brand of 'logic'.

Boyd' s story had been anything but simple; the times that he'd 'sworn by' would have been out by about fifteen minutes by the school keepers accounts, the only real, partial witness to the whole thing.

Everything Jerry said was completely garbled. Sam and Gene had decided that he was under the influence of alcohol. His eyes were boozy, glazed over by the veins tracking every point of the iris. The Inspector wanted to have him in for a drugs test. The Chief Inspector wanted to use his head for a round of footy.

As the door banged open from his office, the Gov thumped Sam's desk, the smaller of the two's head motioning upwards. "Can I help you?"

Gene got straight to the point, sensing that Sam was still a little peeved with him. "Forensics should be back tomorrow afternoon, I sped them up."

"Impressive," Sam deadpanned, wishing he had his I-Pod in the 1970's right now to drown out Gene's misguided attempt at an apology.

"So, I want Bolton and Boyd's sorry arses in 'ere before then so we can get them finger printed."

"Shouldn't we still have the copies from a couple of years ago?"

"We _should _do but, uh, they went missing or something," he sniffed, dismissing any notion of incompetence on the behalf of his officers.

"Helpful."

"Look, Gladys," Hunt ordered, his head dipping lower, like his voice. "What was I meant to do? She was distracting the case."

"Oh but its ok when WDC Cartwright distracts you load of randy buggers in here, isn't it?"

Gene snorted, standing up straighter. "Like you don't look either, Tyler?"

"Is that really the best response you could come up with? No 'just coz you're a poff, doesn't mean the rest of us wouldn't like to imagine copping a feel?' And yes, the pun was certainly intended!"

Sam stood, scooping his leather jacket into his palms. By this time, everyone had either finished their shifts and were heading off for a relaxing evening at home or a not-so-quiet drink in the pub.

Thankfully - for the Gov - no one would be able to hear the next five minutes of arguing.

He headed towards the door but a gruff voice dragged him right back to the centre of the room. "I don't know why you have such a problem with me trying to do the right thing?"

Sam stifled a sarcastic snigger. "You? Doing the right thing? Come off it Gene! The only time you ever, _ever_ consider doing the right thing is when it benefits _you_ and only you!"

Gene inhaled, not quite knowing how to react to that harsh, bitter dose of reality. "That might be true Sammy-Boy, I know I've always been a selfish bastard, but why do you care so much about a girl that has only been in your life for a few days?"

It was Sam's turn to inhale, his shoulders rolling back. "I dunno...I just think it would be a shame for someone who is obviously so intelligent yet a little disadvantaged to have their life taken away from them for no good reason or through no fault of their own."

"What do you mean disadvantaged?"

Sam chuckled auspiciously at Gene's hasty denial. "Well, you can hardly say she's had a good life up till now, can you? I mean, her Mum's a prostitute, her Dad barely knows or cares about her..."

"Her Mam _was_ a prostitute. She's not on the game anymore."

Gene's certainty worried Sam a little. "How do you know? Not booked an appointment recently?"

His Governors face screwed up. "You know, Tyler that was below the belt even for a handbag swinging girl like you."

"You know, why am I stood here wasting my time with you?" Sam realised, his arms flying into the air and slamming against his sides. "I have better stuff to do with my time."

"Like what? Rearrange your knickers draw?"

By this time, Sam wasn't listening anymore, not even facing the Gov. Yes, he was going home, but not before what he would consider an important visit.

To be continued...

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Please review! 


	14. Chapter 14: Ignorance of youth

Hi and welcome to another chapter of 'Keeping it in the Family?' I hope you all had a very Merry Christmas and a great New Years day and I'm sorry for the lack of updates recently – I've been rather busy with other stuff and hadn't had as much time as I would have liked to have written this.

Big, huge thank yous goes out to everyone who keeps reading and reviewing – you guys are the best!

Enjoy!

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Seeing her breath amongst the haze of grey cigarette smoke of the council own property her Mum was actually proud to call her own, Casey Carlisle grunted, feeling rotten after a shitty day on the job and an even shittier return to her house.

Earlier in the day – fearing that her Mother was with a client or would actually be bothered to bombard her with multiple questions about her whereabouts (which just about never happened unless her Mother was _really_ bored) – she'd only dumped her note book and pens inside of the door; Casey came to the conclusion early on in the day that it would be a good idea to take a very long walk, hoping that her frame of mind wouldn't be so jaded after her pleasant stroll, as soon as she'd heard the burnt orange Cortina screech around another bend in Manchester.

To put it plainly, her Mother was useless, completely and utterly useless. No matter how many times she screamed at her or asked her politely, never was she considerate enough to make sure the house was warmed through before she returned home. Yet, if the boot was on the other foot...

Heaving another jumper over her freezing body, one that she _should_ have perhaps washed weeks ago, considering the multiple stains evolving across the cotton fabric, Casey soldiered on into the kitchen. After all, she wasn't going to be receiving any visitors that night, so what did it matter?

Anticipating a kitchen crammed full of fresh goodies from the local grocery store, bitter disappointment clouded her face when she opened many of the cupboards to find them completely empty.

Scowling, she searched for the shopping list that she'd rushed about writing for her Mother that very same morning. Groaning, in her mind she knew exactly where it would be; on her whore of a Mother's bedside table, probably used as a coffee coaster. In the exact same place she'd left it in that very morning.

Plodding upstairs, she felt an explosion brewing inside of her. It was like someone was stood on top of a building, forever pouring gasoline over her unruly fire.

But the thing about this fire was it wasn't good for her; it was self destructive. Instead of filling her with hope, urging her to carry on in her most diabolical of days, it scorched at her insides until they were little more than ash.

As the door creaked open, the smell of cheap perfume hit Casey before she even had a chance to turn a light on. Choking, she did so, wondering over to the opposite side of the bedroom, finding exactly what she'd expected; the shopping list she'd wrote out in the fading moments before heading out to work, a coffee mug stain eclipsing her writing.

Casey murmured; she asked her Mother to do very little for her. Yet, the menial, parent like tasks she _does_ ask of her are always to much. In fact, she wondered just why she felt so disappointed, so betrayed; after all, she should be use to it by now.

Shoving the mug off the paper, Casey took the note in her hands, almost hoping that there was no form of response included. At least that way, she could sort of think of it as an innocent mistake on the behalf of her single Mother.

Yet, if she thought her day had been shit up until now, she was about to hit another heap of turd - face first.

Scrawled lazily over the back of the letter, her Mother had hurled words together, leaving a rather passive and ignorant message.

_Couldn't go shopping - morning appointment._

And that was it; no sorry, no kisses. No nothing. Just a few words cobbled together from nothingness. Typical of that bitch of a Mother. Typical that she would disregard her own flesh and blood's needs over her own. She'd even ripped the note in half, shredding some of the groceries away from one another.

Casey wanted to scream but something stopped her. She didn't know why, but she just couldn't. It was as if she knew not to waste her energy on being angry, especially not against somebody who had disappointed her so many times before anyway.

As the overbearing stench of fragrance began to subside, a new smell entered Casey's nostrils; nail varnish. Glancing at her nails, she hadn't applied any of the stuff in weeks. With one thing and another, she'd been far too busy to care that much about her personal appearance.

On her way home last night though, as a little treat to herself, she stopped off at the chemists. One of her few gal pals had told her that there was a new line of Revlon nail polishes, in bright, shiny colours to be noticed in. Everyone's wearing them, she'd enthused, sucking Casey right into the new craze.

After few moments of her deliberation, she went with her gut instinct and chose the colour that had caught her eye first; the turquoise blue colour, stood proudly at the top of the rack.

Loving it instantly from the moment she first saw it, it said a lot about her personality; she was cautious, wanting to fit in. Yet, her quirkiness was always lingering in the background. So, she did it partly by the accessories she wore, the make up she adorned herself with and the people whom she was friendly.

She bought the nail varnish with the intention of using it that night. Alas, she'd got side tracked by her Mother's self indulgent rant about money, men and sexually transmitted diseases.

Flipping her hair over her shoulders, Casey glanced to the ground, irritated at what she found; a teal blue stain on her Mother's cream carpet.

"Fuck off!" she yelled in exasperation.

On her hands and knees, Casey picked the bottle up, angered that half the contents was drying on the floor, the other half hardening as she continued to moan to herself, in the bottle. A note was beside the mass.

_Just borrowed it - love the colour!_

Casey's face screwed up, tearing the paper into minuscule pieces and slinging it onto her Mother's pillow.

Disrupting her melancholic angst, a gentle knock came at the door. It was soft yet long enough for her to realise that she should perhaps answer the door. Yet, she just didn't feel like company. That was, until she pulled back the curtain, poking her head as far as it would go against the cold glass of the window.

"Sam?" she mumbled, seeing him look up; the light from the bedroom was pouring onto the street below. Well, as much so as a 40 watt bulb would allow.

Glancing at herself in the mirror, she knew that she couldn't allow guests into the house looking as she did. Scarpering into her bedroom, she pulled out a fresh jumper from her draw, hastily pulling the other off as she sprinkled her fruity sweet perfume, another Revlon product called Charlie, over her skin. She wanted to at least look - and smell - the part, even if she didn't feel like the perfect hostess.

Pulling her locks into a tight ribbon, she rushed down the stairs, nearly tripping over her lengthily jeans. Knowing her luck, by the time she managed to answer the door, Sam would be long gone. Back to his flat. Back to Annie.

DI Tyler wasn't use to doing a house call alone; he usually had his DCI stood beside him, grunting at how long the occupant was taking to acknowledge their presence at the door. He had to admit to himself though that he was getting a little irritated at how long he was left standing on the doorstop for, amongst cracked flower pots and scraped gnomes. His mind was becoming increasingly aware at the area he was in; that poor, rough part of Manchester that brought misery to the station, having to solve petty cases of theft and burglaries.

Eventually, the door swung open, the blonde girl stood before him. She looked pleasant, even nice; her sandy hair was away from her eyes, although they looked to have seen better days. Days without tears and pain.

"Hi, Sam, I mean, DI Ty-"

"It's ok, just call me Sam," he smiled, almost apologetically.

They stood examining one another for a few seconds that felt like a lifetime to her. "Would you like to come in?" she asked, leaning against the chipped door frame, once a bright shade of white. Now, it was turning yellow, like a cigarette smoker's teeth.

"Yes, if that's ok?"

"Sure, I wouldn't have offered if I didn't mean it."

Sam stepped inside the grotty semi-detached house. He was tempted to think that his place looked like a palace compared to this one; sprawled everywhere were outdated news paper, magazines from the sixties and empty alcohol bottles. The Inspector could tell that his latest recruit was at least a little embarrassed by it all.

"Sorry that it's not very tidy," she spoke, lifting and shuffling papers from the sofa. "Here, take a seat."

Surprisingly, the sofa was clean underneath the mountain of magazines. As Casey dropped them to the ground, a cloud of dust erupted in the air. Sam stifled a chocked laugh.

"Is there anything I can get for you?"

"No, honestly, I'm fine thanks."

Casey frowned a little. "Are you sure? I've got liquors if you want one of my special coffees?"

Sam noted the look of hope in her eyes. How could he possibly refuse? "Um, ok then, thanks. Just a small one."

Nodding now contently to herself, Casey made her way into the pokey kitchen, rummaging for the clean kettle from the cupboard. Her Mother had purchased it for when they had 'special guest' come round for a drink or even a meal. In other words, someone who isn't a paying customer. Just for a change.

Rinsing out the kettle, she filled it half way with fresh, cold water, ignoring her Boss' original request of a miniscule amount.

Making her way back into the dimly lit living room, Casey switched on another lamp. It didn't make that much of a difference but enough so that he could be seen behind the curtain of blackness.

"What would you like? I've got Vodka, Whisky..."

"Whisky will be great," Tyler interrupted hastily. "Thank you."

Sam watched the young woman venture back into the other room, her slender frame only just managing to support the jeans she was wearing. Her sweater was a mile too big for her but he figured it was probably necessary, with the house being as cold as it was. Perhaps it was a good idea he'd requested that coffee after all.

She returned a few minutes later, a broad but exaggerated grin capturing her face. "Here you go, hope you like it!"

Sam took the steaming cup from her. "Thank you."

Mimicking her actions from just a minute ago, Casey lugged the vintage newspapers from the seat diagonally away from her Inspector. She sat down, watching him drink the coffee. The way his lips formed into a gentle 'o' as he cautiously sipped the coffee, trying not to inhale too much in case he burnt his tongue.

"Blimey, there's a lot of Whisky in this!" he spluttered.

Casey smirked. "Is it ok because I can make you another one? It's just I thought after the day you'd had you might be in need of something a little stronger than usual?"

"That's very thoughtful of you," Sam acknowledge, taking a smaller, more graceful drop.

The room became silent once again.

"So, what did happen after _DCI Hunt_ told me to bugger off home?" Casey enquired, not sure if she really wanted to hear the answer.

Sam's eyebrows pressed together. "Well, going to Boyd's house was more or less a waste of time. I'll show you the files tomorrow, so that you can get up to speed with it all. You _will_ be in tomorrow, I take it?"

To Casey's youthful ears, that sounded like a request rather than a question. "Sure, unless he surrounds the building with rabid dogs when I get anywhere within fifty yards of the place."

Sam chuckled. "You know, it _will_ get better."

"How?" she whispered, unsure of his response.

He thought about his response carefully, wanting the young woman to understand but at the same time, not attempting to fill her with false hopes that couldn't possibly be met. At least not by the Gene Genie. "He'll eventually accept that you are now a part of the team and treat you like one of us. It was like than when I originally promoted Annie, but it all got better."

'There he goes again, mentioning _her_,' Casey gritted her teeth, sealing her thoughts to the confines of her mind.

"I dunno. I should be use to feeling rejected by now. It's happened a lot in my life."

Sam plonked down the mug, awash with guilt. "Hey, don't talk like that," he urged. "Your Dad does care for you; he's just not here to show it."

"No change there then!" Casey spat bitterly.

He rubbed a hand over his tiring face. Yep, he was suddenly beginning to wish that he hadn't bothered. "You know, you've got a lot to prove down the station," Sam warned, making himself more comfortable in the upholstery. "There are a lot of people that doubt you, think that the Gov made a stupid decision when he hired you. But I don't think he did."

Casey's face glanced up, relieved that someone was on her side. "Really?"

"Really."

"Why?"

"I dunno, but something tells me that you're going to be a good copper one day."

"I hope so, to prove everyone wrong."

Sam offered a sympathetic but inquisitive look. "Who do you want to prove wrong?"

"_Him_ and Mother."

"You're making it sound like they are on the same page."

She shook her head lightly. "I'm not saying that. But they both doubt me."

"Where is your Mum anyway?" Sam quizzed, wanting to make the conversation a little sweeter. Alas, he'd just pushed directly the wrong button.

"Where do you think?"

"At work?"

"You could say that."

As she leant back even further into her seat, the sarcasm became too great for Sam to ignore. "Wait, you mean..."

"Yep, she's with a client."

He raised an eyebrow in confusion. "Wait, but the Gov said that she'd given up with that?"

She snorted. "Oh yeah, I told _him_ that."

The Detective Inspector shot Casey a look she imagined a Father would when they were disappointed with their Daughter's actions. "Why?"

"If I told him the truth, he would have never let me have the job, would he? I'm sure it would look really good under my next of kin's occupation...'oh yeah, prostitution'. Truth to be told, I don't know why I bothered covering up for her anymore. I've more or less accepted that's what she does and always will do. After all, a leopard never changes its spots, does it?"

"Not necessarily."

"It's always been the same with her. She's never been here for me. It's always had to be the other way round. I could never stand it when I was a kid - having to come home from school, welcomed by little more than a freezing cold house. No food warming for me on the stove. Just a new batch of sex toys to shift through, to make sure the delivery was right."

Tears began to well in her eyes; tears of anger and perpetual sadness. Sam didn't know how to confront – or even comfort - this situation.

"And it's still like that, even now. She doesn't give a fuck about me - not in the slightest."

Her voice finally cracked. Sam took a deep breath, making his way over to her. He wrapped a supportive arm around her shaking shoulders, hoping to calm her.

"Hey, hey, come on, don't cry, it won't change the situation, or make it any better," he spoke wisely, bringer her closer to his body.

She dragged herself over to him more, the scent of soap and deodorant strolling through her nostrils. "Nothing ever will."

Sam held her for a few minutes, finally finding the courage to speak up. "My Dad, he left when I was four."

"I'm sorry," she said, gazing into his hazel eyes, full of warmth and compassion.

"I never did see him again."  
"Well, at least you have the memories, you know, of when you were together. As a family."

Sam exhaled thoughtfully. "In a way, it made it even worse. It made me yearn for him even more."

Feeling her body move more fluently beside his, Casey ran her fingers through his mouse brownish locks. "I'm sorry," she repeated, with more empathy than ever before.

Closing her eyes, she felt her lips pucker, travelling slowly but surely towards his.

"What the hell are you doing?" he yelped, letting go of her.

"I-I was..."

He straightened out his leather jacket. "What? You were going to kiss me?"

"B-but, I thought..."

"No, you didn't think," Sam cried, his hands scuffing over his mouth.

He fled the scene, leaving her in pieces.

- - - - -

I hope you enjoyed this chapter – please review!


	15. Chapter 15: The DI and his Master

Hi and welcome to the 15th chapter of 'Keeping it in the Family?'. Sorry that it's taken me so long to write an update but I've had lots of exams and coursework to do (unfortuantely!).

A massive thank you goes out to sparks733 for rating the last chapter. Please guys, whether you like this story or think that improvements need to be made, I'd really appreciate the reviews just so that I know that I'm going in the right direction or not.

Thank you for sticking with it and I hope you enjoy this update!

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_The stench of a burning sugar factory hit his nostrils without warning like an out of control, speeding motorcycle._

_He opened his eyes but could see nothing. He blinked and blinked, hoping that his sight would magically return instantaneously__ But the darkness of the room absorbed his senses, making him paralysed; he dare not move for fear of what was there yet he had a pretty good idea as to who would be there, waiting to harass him any second._

_Shutting his eyes, he urged himself to fall back to sleep, so that this cursing dream would be over sooner. The smell distracted him, made him cough as if his lungs were about to make an appearance._

_Suddenly, a flash of bright, white light poured over him, forcing his eyes to open, to see the patronising witch before him. Her taunts began spewing from her poisonous mouth._

_"Dear, dear, dear me Sammy, what are we going to do with you?"_

_His eyes were sore, the instant transition from dark to light being too quick and too unbearable for him to think straight. _

_"Nothing - piss off."_

_"That's no way to talk to a nice young lady like me!" she giggled, mocking him once again._

_"What the hell do you want?" he questioned lowly, his voice engulfed in disgust for her, the blonde, blue eyed witch._

_She paraded her clown before him, the same blasted clown with the crocked smile and clumped together hair. "We just wanted to know if you were ok, that's all."_

_He snarled openly, now attempted to sit up in bed. He needed to know that he could protect himself in an instant. "Ok, I'm fine. Now go away!"_

_"I don't think so..." she spoke in her sing song voice, the one he could still hear from the times before in his head, swirling around like a dire stuck record._

_"I'm good, great, excellent, is that what you want to hear?" he cried, his voice becoming hysterical, his body shaking, shifting from cold to hot sweats in rapid successions as his head fell into his hands. Maybe if he didn't see her, she would go away? After all, that's what his mother use to say about bullies; 'if you just ignore them, Sammy, they'll go away.'_

_Alas, he feared he wouldn't be so lucky this time._

_The girl frowned but only slightly. Nothing was going to ruin her day, not even a rotten egg like Sam Tyler. "It's just that you didn't __look__ fine earlier, at Casey's house."_

_His head shot up. "Leave Casey out of this."_

_She blatantly disregarded his frantic demands. "But __why__, Sammy? Didn't you want to kiss her like she wanted to kiss you?"_

_"No!"_

_"Oh, don't worry, I would __never__ have told Annie about it. In fact, it could have been our little secret."_

_He pressed his eyelids together, tighter and tighter. "Please, just go away!"_

_"Sammy and Casey sittin' in a tree K-I-S-S-I-N-G..."_

_"Go away!"_

_"First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes Casey with a ba-"_

_"SHUT UP!"_

The light swam through the curtains more effortlessly with each passing minute. Sam Tyler gathered himself together, away from the disturbed dreams of moments ago. Why did the girl in the TV have to torture him so? With her irritating, sweetheart voice and bloody scary clown.

He stared at her in the TV screen for a moment, as if he was finally in control once again. He couldn't believe that somebody who looked that sweet and innocent could be so destructive. He hoped his glares, as wavering as they were, would make her not want to come back. That the narrowing of his eyes and black stare would intimidate _her_ for a change and that she'd never want to mock him again.

Then, a knock at the door jerking his body forward.

"Oi, Tyler, you deaf this morning?"

Sam groaned, dragging himself away from the sticky warmth of his tangled bed to make sure he was dressed at least semi-appropriately for his superior officer. The Inspector trudged over to the door fearing that after such a rough night, the even rougher Gene Hunt was the last person he wanted to see on such a morning.

The DCI stood as still as his body would let him, leather bounded fists clenched at his sides, his face as fierce as a bulldog chewing a wasp.

Sam didn't know exactly _what_ expression his face presented to his Chief Inspector. He didn't know whether it was concern, shock or even annoyance; annoyance that he'd dared come knocking on his door so early in the morning.

"Well aren't you going to be a good little Dorothy and invite me in?"

Rubbing a hand across a sore eye, Sam stepped back momentarily. Despite his sleepiness and pounding head, he did notice Hunt's scarily detailed inspection of his bed.

"What's going on?" he inquired, grabbing the clock from the bedside table. It wasn't even seven.

"Where were you last night, Detective Inspector Tyler?"

Sam gulped, not liking the way the Gov had used his full title. He had a sinking feeling that the Gov already knew where he was the evening before. It seemed as if the Hunt had eyes all over the city of Manchester, as if he knew everyone's business.

He tried to shrug it off and tried to humour him in as harmless a way as possible. "Nowhere."

With a raised eyebrow, Gene could tell his Inspector was stretching the truth; he was acting as if he was one of the bastards they'd dragged into the station, his face twitchy and his feet unable to keep his body stationary. "Where is nowhere, exactly?"

Sam's shoulders shuddered. "Well, here, I guess."

"What do you mean, you 'guess?' Would it 'elp if I drew you a bloody map?"

"What I mean is," Sam swallowed, trying to think of a way to get himself out of the shitty situation. "I was here for the most part."

"And for the other part?"

DI Tyler grumbled openly, wrapping his arms more securely around his chilled body. "Out."

"Christ Almighty, Tyler!" Gene bellowed, his arms slumped at his sides. "Why are you acting like such a retard all of sudden? Where were you last night?!"

Sam felt himself flush, his eyes locking shut. "At Casey's house."

Anticipating a blitz of blows, Sam's eye lids clasped to each other as he lifted his arms over his head in a poor example of self defence. He didn't want to quiver but his plight was not helped by the fact he was semi-naked and his flat was surprisingly freezing. Not to mention the fact that his Chief Inspector was stood over him and was seriously pissed off. Sam could smell him; he could tell that his breathing hitched from moments of anger to moments of insecurity.

And that was what Gene Hunt was underneath all of the bravado; insecure. The arrival of Casey had magnified this insecurity, at least in this mind of his DI. Sure, all of the other members of CID could perhaps tell _something_ was up but could they detect fear in Gene Hunt's mind? No. Although they all liked to make out they were 'in' with the Gov, as if they were his best mate down the Railway Arms when they were buying him drinks and congratulating him on a good days work whilst ignoring every ounce of effort Tyler had put in, none of them knew the real him. They knew bugger all about Hunt's past, about his abysmal marriage and his insufferably solemn family life.

But Sam knew. Sam knew just about all of the significant and painful details of the Govs life. Did he rejoice about it? No. And that's probably why it was him – and only him - that knew most of the gory details. Give Carling half a chance and he would have been gloating about it by noon. He would have been telling the whole station of Gene's misfortunes whilst making out that nobody else should know because he was the Gov's 'chosen one'.

And that's why Sam Tyler stood up straight – because he knew how much the Gov knew was riding on everything. If he thumped him, Sam would tell. That was how he viewed it. Trust was a two way thing and if he knocked his DI unconscious when he was defenceless, that trust would have been too battered and contorted to ever be rebuilt.

In his moments of panic, Sam had failed to notice the heavy breathing distancing from himself. As his eyes opened carefully, one by one, he saw the Gov sat with his head in his hands much like he had done moments ago. God, this wasn't the Gene Hunt Sam Tyler knew at all! This was a man who he didn't know, someone who he certainly wasn't acquainted with.

This was the terrifyingly frightened Gene Hunt at his worst.

Although Sam hadn't been overly alert beforehand, he certainly was now. He was shocked but not surprised. He knew as soon as Casey had stumbled through the doors of CID that Gene would pent up all of the hurt on his part for so long and then let it all out in one gushing waterfall of misery. That was the kind of man Gene Hunt was; someone who concealed their feeling for the fear of being branded a Nancy boy or poof.

The problem was, Sam didn't realise it would be this abrupt or early.

Knowing that he _had_ to tread carefully, Sam made his way cautiously over to where the Gov was sat. Thankfully, he hadn't resulted to crying. The plain thought of Gene crying made Sam nervous as it was just so uncharacteristic of him. Sure, he got mad, sad, annoyed, hurt and betrayed but he would never, ever weep in front of anyone. It just wasn't him.

"Uh, is there anything I get for you, Gene?"

Inhaling, he glanced up at his Inspector, ignoring the thought of making eye contact. "Large whisky would be nice."

Sam didn't know whether to laugh or cry; laugh because he _was_ half expecting his Govs eyes to be red with silent tears and thankfully they weren't. Or, to cry because it was so tragic that someone of Gene's subtle intelligence felt that they had to resort to alcohol as a saviour to all of their problems.

Instead, he offered him a gentle hand on the shoulder and a weak smile. "What's made you this upset, Gov?"

"I'm not bloody upset Tyler, just pissed off."

Sam hastened to remove his hand before it got bitten off. "Why annoyed?"

"I'm annoyed that you were the one that 'ad to go round to 'er 'ouse last night and clear the air because I wasn't man enough to do so, that's why."

"I wouldn't really call it clearing the air..." Sam mumbled under his breath.

"You what?"

"Nothing, Gene, I just think you shouldn't be so harsh on yourself, that's all."

"I shouldn't 'ave been as 'arsh on 'er either, should I?"

Sam's lips pursed as he took a seat on his bed amongst the crumpled, sweaty sheets. "No but everyone makes mistakes. Just because you're a natural leader, it doesn't mean you're a natural Dad. In fact, many men aren't now-a-days."

Gene's eyes glanced up in confusion. "Blimey, I must be lookin' depressed if you're saying sommats nice about me!"

Sam openly smiled as did his superior. "All I'm saying is that you and her have to work on both your professional and father, daughter relationship. It isn't going to all fall into place as if by magic, you know? You have to give these things time and lots of effort."

Gene nodded in agreement. "Yeah, you're right, I know you are. I'm just worried that she's going to say sommats if we 'ave another bad day and that she's going to berate me for it."

"Yet, you're not worried that I might say something?"

For the first time this morning, Gene looked Sam directly in the eye. "You know the answer to that, Sammy. You know that you're about the only bloke in that whole ruddy station that I trust. Ray would just take the piss out of us if I ever told 'im. I can just 'ear 'im telling everyone under the sun before making them keep quite about it. I can just hear him making little digs about it every time we are out working on a case together or in the office with a young girl or whatever."

Gene stopped himself before he got too emotional. He did have every confidence in his DI and, at least at that moment in time, he wasn't afraid to show it. "By the way, what are you doing tonight?"

Sam ran his hands over his face. "Uh, nothing I don't think."

"Well, you're coming out with me and Casey to a restaurant. I want to clear the air with 'er, away from the station like so we can get to know each other a bit better."

"Why do you want me to go?"

"Because, Tyler, you can be the voice of reason if need be. She can be a stubborn little mare when she wants to be."

"I wonder which of her parents she inherited that quality from?" Sam joked, seeing the Govs eyes narrow a little.

Really, he thought that the invitation was Gene's way of apologising for being too much of an arsehole the other day. Yet, he wasn't expecting the apologies of all apologies or even a simple sorry. To Gene, it really was actions that spoke louder than words and he was going to make every effort possible to do that today.

"Besides, Tyler, you look like you could do with a couple of curries down you, the way those ribs are poking through your skin!"

It was true that his DI wasn't exactly carrying any extra pounds but he was hardly too thin either.

Suddenly, before Sam could even begin to defend himself, both men jumped a little at the sound of Phyllis' haggard and whiney voice crackling over the radio. "Calling Alpha Male, do you copy?"

Rolling his eyes, Gene fished the equipment out of his coat pocket. "Yes, copy Phyllis."

"There's been a reported murder on the outskirts of Walton Road. A man was out walking his dog this morning and he found the body amongst piles of rubbish."

As Gene answered Phyllis' call, telling her to send back up to the scene, Sam pulled on a shirt and a clean pair of trousers as he juggled a toothbrush and a bar of soap in his hands. There was urgent work to attend to but he needed to look at least half way alive before his significant other became too worried.

"Come on Gladys, there's no need to make yourself look pretty, there are murdering scumbags to be caught!"

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Thank you for reading! Please take the time to review if you've gotten this far : ) 

Elle.


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